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THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE:  A STUDY  IN  HUMAN 
NATURE.  Gifford  Lectures  delivered  at  Edinburgh  University.  8vo.  New 
York,  London,  Bombay,  and  Calcutta:  Longmans,  Green  & Co. 

PRAGMATISM;  A NEW  NAME  FOR  SOME  OLD  WAYS  OF  THINKING: 
POPULAR  LECTURES  ON  PHILOSOPHY.  8vo.  New  York,  London,  Bom- 
bay, and  Calcutta:  Longmans,  Green  & Co. 

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A PLURALISTIC  UNIVERSE;  HIBBERT  LECTURES  ON  THE  PRESENT 
SITUATION  IN  PHILOSOPHY.  8vo.  New  York,  London,  Bombay,  and  CaU 
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THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  PSYCHOLOGY.  2 vols.,  8vo.  New  York : Henry 
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PSYCHOLOGY;  BRIEFER  COURSE,  lamo.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  & Co. 
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HABIT.  Reprint  of  a chapter  in  “ The  Principles  of  Psychology.”  i6mo.  New 
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THE  LITERARY  REMAINS  OF  HENRY  JAMES.  Edited,  with  an  Introduction, 
by  William  James.  With  Portrait.  Crown  8vo.  Boston:  Houghton  Mifflin 
Co.  1885.  

LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES.  Selected  and  edited  with  Biographical  Intro- 
duction and  Notes  by  his  son  Henry  James.  2 vols.,  8vo.  Boston  : Atlantic 
Monthly  Press,  Inc.  London:  Longmans,  Green  & Co.  1920. 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS 
EXPERIENCE 


LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CX). 

' 1 14  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 

2.2.1  EAST  2.0TH  STREET,  CHICAGO 
88  TREMONT  STREET,  BOSTON 

LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CO.  Ltd. 

39  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  LONDON,  E C 4 
6 OLD  COURT  HOUSE  STREET,  CALCUTTA 
53  NICOL  ROAD,  BOMBAY 
36A  MOUNT  ROAD,  MADRAS 


LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CO. 

480  UNIVERSITY  AVENUE,  TORONTO 


THE  VARIETIES  OF 

RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

A STUDY  IN  HUMAN  NATURE 


BEING  THE  GIFFORD  LECTURES 
ON  NATURAL  RELIGION 
DELIVERED  AT  EDINBURGH  IN  I9OI-I9O2 


BY 

WILLIAM  JAMES 


THIRTY-EIGHTH 


LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CO. 

LONDON  • NEW  YORK  • TORONTO 
1935 


JAMES 

VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


COPYRIGHT.  1902 
BY  WILLIAM  JAMES 

All  Rights  Reserved 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 

First  Edition,  June,  1902. 

Reprinted,  with  revisions,  August,  1902. 

Reprinted,  October,  November,  December,  1902, 
January,  March,  November,  1903,  April,  Sep- 
tember, 1904,  February,  loosrFebruary,  Novem- 
ber, 1906,  May,  1907,  February,  September, 
1908,  August,  1909,  June,  October,  1910,  Jan- 
uary, August,  1911,  January,  June,  1912,  March, 
t9i3>  January,  1914,  January,  1915,  January, 
■ ' -r,  1916,  September,  1917,  February,  Sep- 


1919,  March,  1920,  December,  1921, 
May,  1925,  April,  1928,  October, 

193s 


PaiNTRD  m THE  UNITED  STATES  OE  AMERICA 


PREFACE 


This  book  would  uever  have  been  written  had  I not 
been  honored  with  an  appointment  as  Gifford  Lec- 
turer on  Natural  Religion  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 
In  casting  about  me  for  subjects  of  the  two  courses  of 
ten  lectures  each  for  which  I thus  became  responsible, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  the  first  course  might  well  be  a 
descriptive  one  on  ‘ Man’s  Religious  Appetites,’  and  the 
second  a metaphysical  one  on  ‘ Their  Satisfaction  through 
Philosophy.’  But  the  unexpected  growth  of  the  psycho- 
logical matter  as  I came  to  write  it  out  has  resulted  in 
the  second  subject  being  postponed  entirely,  and  the 
description  of  man’s  religious  constitution  now  fills  the 
twenty  lectures.  In  Lecture  XX  I have  suggested 
rather  than  stated  my  own  philosophic  conclusions,  and 
the  reader  who  desires  immediately  to  know  them  should 
turn  to  pages  511—519,  and  to  the  ‘ Postscript  ’ of  the 
book.  I hope  to  be  able  at  some  later  day  to  express 
them  in  more  explicit  form. 

In  my  behef  that  a large  acquaintance  with  particulars 
often  makes  us  wiser  than  the  possession  of  abstract  for- 
mxilas,  however  deep,  I have  loaded  the  lectures  with 
concrete  examples,  and  I have  chosen  these  among  the 
extremer  expressions  of  the  religious  temperament.  To 
some  readers  I may  consequently  seem,  before  they  get 
beyond  the  middle  of  the  book,  to  offer  a caricature  of 


VI 


PREFACE 


the  subject.  Such  convulsions  of  piety,  they  will  say, 
are  not  sane.  If,  however,  they  will  have  the  patience 
to  read  to  the  end,  I believe  that  this  unfavorable  impres- 
sion will  disappear ; for  I there  combine  the  religious 
impulses  with  other  principles  of  common  sense  which 
serve  as  correctives  of  exaggeration,  and  allow  the  indi- 
vidual reader  to  draw  as  moderate  conclusions  as  he  will. 

My  thanks  for  help  in  writing  these  lectures  are  due 
to  Edwin  D.  Starbuck,  of  Stanford  University,  who  made 
over  to  me  his  large  collection  of  manuscript  material ; 
to  Henry  W.  Rankin,  of  East  Northfield,  a friend  unseen 
but  proved,  to  whom  I owe  precious  informatijn;  to 
Theodore  Flournoy,  of  Geneva,  to  Canning  Schiller  of 
Oxford,  and  to  my  colleague  Benjamin  Rand,  for  docu- 
ments ; to  my  colleague  Dickinson  S.  Miller,  and  to  my 
friends,  Thomas  Wren  Ward,  of  New  York,  and  Win- 
centy  Lutoslawski,  late  of  Cracow,  for  important  sugges- 
tions and  advice.  Finally,  to  conversations  with  the 
lamented  Thomas  Davidson  and  to  the  use  of  his  books, 
at  Glenmore,  above  Keene  VaUey,  I owe  more  obliga- 
tions than  I can  well  express. 

Hakvard  Universitt, 

Maroh,  1902. 


CONTENTS 


LECTURE  I 

PAGE 

Remgion  and  Neurology 1 

Introduction  : the  course  is  not  anthropological,  but  deals 
with  personal  documents,  1.  Questions  of  fact  and  questions  of 
value,  4.  In  point  of  fact,  the  religious  are  often  neurotic,  6. 
Criticism  of  medical  materialism,  which  condemns  religion  on 
that  account,  10.  Theory  that  religion  has  a sexual  origin 
refuted,  11.  All  states  of  mind  are  neurally  conditioned,  14. 
Their  significance  must  be  tested  not  by  their  origin  but  by 
the  value  of  their  fruits,  15.  Three  criteria  of  value ; ori- 
gin useless  as  a criterion,  18.  Advantages  of  the  psychopathic 
temperament  when  a superior  intellect  goes  with  it,  22  ; 
especially  for  the  religious  life,  24. 

LECTURE  II 

CiBCtJMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC  ......  26 

Futility  of  simple  definitions  of  religion,  26.  No  one  specific 
‘ religious  sentiment,’  27.  Institutional  and  personal  religion, 

28.  We  confine  ourselves  to  the  personal  branch,  29.  Definition 
of  religion  for  the  purpose  of  these  lectures,  31.  Meaning  of 
the  term  ‘ divine,’  31.  The  divine  is  what  prompts  solemn  re- 
actions, 38.  Impossible  to  make  our  definitions  sharp,  39.  We 
must  study  the  more  extreme  cases,  40.  Two  ways  of  accepting 
the  universe,  41.  Religion  is  more  enthusiastic  than  philosophy, 

45.  Its  characteristic  is  enthusiasm  in  solemn  emotion,  48.  Its 
ability  to  overcome  unhappiness,  50.  Need  of  such  a faculty 
from  the  biological  point  of  view,  51. 

LECTURE  III 

The  Reaxitt  of  the  Unseen 53 

Percepts  versus  abstract  concepts,  53.  Influence  of  the  latter 
on  belief,  54.  Kant’s  theological  Ideas,  55.  We  have  a sense  of 
reality  other  than  that  given  by  the  special  senses,  58.  Examples 
of  ‘ sense  of  presence,’  59.  The  feeling  of  unreality,  63.  Sense 


CONTENTS 


of  a divine  presence : examples,  65.  Mystical  experiences  s 
examples,  69.  Other  cases  of  sense  of  God’s  presence,  70. 
Convincingness  of  unreasoned  experience,  72.  Inferiority  of 
rationalism  in  establishing  belief,  73.  Either  enthusiasm  or 
solemnity  may  preponderate  in  the  religious  attitude  of  indi> 
viduals,  75. 

LECTURES  IV  AND  V 

The  Religion  of  Healthy-mindedness  . . . .78 

Happiness  is  man’s  chief  concern,  78.  ‘Once-born’  and 
‘ twice-born  ’ characters,  80.  Walt  Whitman,  84.  Mixed  nature 
of  Greek  feeling,  86.  Systematic  healthy-mindedness,  87.  Ite 
reasonableness,  88.  Liberal  Christianity  shows  it,  91.  Opth 
mism  as  encouraged  by  Popular  Science,  92.  The  ‘ Mind-cure  ’ 
movement,  94.  Its  creed,  97.  Cases,  102.  Its  doctrine  of  evil, 

106.  Its  analogy  to  Lutheran  theology,  108.  Salvation  by  relax- 
ation, 109.  Its  methods : suggestion,  112  ; meditation,  115 ; 

‘ recollection,’  116 ; verification,  118.  Diversity  of  possible 
schemes  of  adaptation  to  the  universe,  122.  Appendix:  Two 
mind-cure  cases,  123. 

LECTURES  VI  AND  VII 

The  Sick  Soul 127 

Healthy-mindedness  and  repentance,  127.  Essential  plural- 
ism of  the  healthy-minded  philosophy,  131.  Morbid-minded- 
ness  — its  two  degrees,  134.  The  pain-threshold  varies  in  indi- 
viduals, 135.  Insecurity  of  natural  goods,  136.  Failure,  or  vain 
success  of  every  life,  138.  Pessimism  of  all  pure  naturalism, 

140.  Hopelessness  of  Greek  and  Roman  view,  142.  Pathological 
unhappiness,  144.  ‘Anhedonia,’  145.  Querulous  melancholy, 

148  Vital  zest  is  a pure  gift,  150.  Loss  of  it  makes  physical 
worlj  look  different,  151.  Tolstoy,  152.  Bunyan,  157.  Alline, 

159.  Morbid  fear,  160.  Such  cases  need  a supernatural  religion 
for  relief,  162.  Antagonism  of  healthy-mindedness  and  morbid- 
ness, 163.  The  problem  of  evil  cannot  be  escaped,  164. 

LECTURE  VIII 

The  Divided  Self,  and  the  Process  of  its  Unification  . 166 
Heterogeneous  personality,  167.  Character  gradually  attains 
unity,  170.  Examples  of  divided  self,  171.  The  unity  attained 
need  not  be  religious,  175.  ‘Counter  conversion’  cases,  177. 


CONTENTS 


IX 


Other  cases,  178.  Gradual  and  sudden  unification,  183.  Tol- 
stoy’s recovery,  184.  Bunyan’s,  186. 

LECTURE  IX 

Conversion 189 

Case  of  Stephen  Bradley,  189.  The  psychology  of  character- 
changes,  193.  Emotional  excitements  make  new  centres  of  per- 
sonal energy,  196.  Schematic  ways  of  representing  this,  197. 
Starbuck  likens  conversion  to  normal  moral  ripening,  198. 
Leuba’s  ideas,  201.  Seemingly  unconvertible  persons,  204. 

Two  types  of  conversion,  206.  Subconscious  incubation  of  mo- 
tives, 206.  Self-surrender,  208.  Its  importance  in  religious 
history,  211.  Cases,  212. 

LECTURE  X 

Conversion  — concluded 217 

Cases  of  sudden  conversion,  217.  Is  suddenness  essential  ? 

227.  No,  it  depends  on  psychological  idiosyncrasy,  230.  Proved 
existence  of  transmarginal,  or  subliminal,  consciousness,  233. 
‘Automatisms,’  234.  Instantaneous  conversions  seem  due  to 
the  possession  of  an  active  subconscious  self  by  the  subject,  236. 

The  value  of  Cv  aversion  depends  not  on  the  process,  but  on  the 
fruits,  237.  These  are  not  superior  in  sudden  conversion,  238. 
Professor  Coe’s  views,  240.  Sanctification  as  a result,  241. 

Our  psychological  account  does  not  exclude  direct  presence 
of  the  Deity,  242.  Sense  of  higher  control,  243.  Relations  of 
the  emotional  ‘ faith-state  ’ to  intellectual  beliefs,  246.  Leuba 
quoted,  247.  Characteristics  of  the  faith-state  : sense  of  truth  ; 
the  world  appears  new,  248.  Sensory  and  motor  automatisms, 

250.  Permanency  of  conversions,  266. 

LECTURES  XI,  XII,  AND  XIII 

Saintliness 259 

Sainte-Beuve  on  the  State  of  Grace,  260.  Types  of  charac- 
ter as  due  to  the  balance  of  impulses  and  inhibitions,  261.  Sov- 
ereign excitements,  262.  Irascibility,  264.  Effects  of  higher 
excitement  in  general,  266.  The  saintly  life  is  ruled  by  spir- 
itual excitement,  267.  This  may  annul  sensual  impulses  perma- 
nently, 268.  Probable  subconscious  influences  involved,  270. 
Mechanical  scheme  for  representing  permanent  alteration  in 
character,  270.  Characteristics  of  saintliness,  271.  Sense  of 


X 


CONTENTS 


reality  of  a higher  power,  274.  Peace  of  mind,  charity,  278. 
Equanimity,  fortitude,  etc.,  284.  Connection  of  this  with  relax- 
ation, 289.  Purity  of  life,  290.  Asceticism,  296.  Obedience, 

310.  Poverty,  315.  The  sentiments  of  democracy  and  of  hu- 
manity, 324.  General  effects  of  higher  excitements,  325. 

LECTURES  XIV  AND  XV 

The  Value  of  Saintliness 326 

It  must  be  tested  by  the  human  value  of  its  fruits,  327.  The 
reality  of  the  God  must,  however,  also  be  judged,  328.  ‘ Unfit  ’ 
religions  get  eliminated  by  ‘ experience,’  331.  Empiricism  is 
not  skepticism,  332.  Individual  and  tribal  religion,  334,  Lone- 
liness of  religious  originators,  335.  Corruption  follows  success, 

337.  Extravagances,  339.  Excessive  devoutness,  as  fanaticism, 

340 ; as  theopathic  absorption,  343.  Excessive  purity,  348. 
Excessive  charity,  355.  The  perfect  man  is  adapted  only  to  the 
perfect  environment,  356.  Saints  are  leavens,  357.  Excesses 
of  asceticism,  360.  Asceticism  symbolically  stands  for  the 
heroic  life,  363.  Militarism  and  voluntary  poverty  as  possible 
equivalents,  365.  Pros  and  cons  of  the  saintly  character,  369. 
Saints  versus  ‘ strong  ’ men,  371.  Their  social  function  must 
be  considered,  374.  Abstractly  the  saint  is  the  highest  type, 
but  in  the  present  environment  it  may  fail,  so  we  make  our- 
selves saints  at  our  peril,  375.  The  question  of  theological 
truth,  377. 


LECTURES  XVI  AND  XVII 

Mysticism 379 

Mysticism  defined,  379.  Four  marks  of  mystic  states,  380. 
They  form  a distinct  region  of  consciousness,  382.  Examples 
of  their  lower  grades,  382.  Mysticism  and  alcohol,  386.  ‘ The 
anaesthetic  revelation,’  387.  Religious  mysticism,  393.  Aspects 
of  Nature,  394.  Consciousness  of  God,  396.  ‘ Cosmic  conscious- 
ness,’ 398.  Yoga,  400.  Buddhistic  mysticism,  401.  Sufism,  402. 
Christian  mystics,  406.  Their  sense  of  revelation,  408.  Tonic 
effects  of  mystic  states,  414.  They  describe  by  negatives,  416. 
Sense  of  union  with  the  Absolute,  419.  Mysticism  and  music, 

420.  Three  conclusions,  422.  (1)  Mystical  states  carry  au- 
thority for  him  who  has  them,  423.  (2)  But  for  no  one  else, 

424.  (3)  Nevertheless,  they  break  down  the  exclusive  author- 
ity of  rationalistic  states,  427.  They  strengthen  monistic  and 
optimistic  hypotheses,  428. 


CONTENTS 


si 


LECTURE  XVm 

Philosopht 430 

Primacy  o£  feeling  in  religion,  philosophy  being  a secondary 
function,  430.  Intellectuahsm  professes  to  escape  subjective 
standards  in  her  theological  constructions,  433.  ‘ Dogmatic 
theology,’  436.  Criticism  of  its  account  of  God’s  attributes, 

442.  ‘ Pragmatism  ’ as  a test  of  the  value  of  conceptions,  444. 
God’s  metaphysical  attributes  have  no  practical  significance, 

445.  His  moral  attributes  are  proved  by  bad  arguments  ; col- 
lapse of  systematic  theology,  448.  Does  transcendental  ideal- 
ism fare  better?  Its  principles,  449.  Quotations  from  John 
Caird,  450.  They  are  good  as  restatements  of  religious  experi- 
ence, but  uncoercive  as  reasoned  proof,  453.  What  philosophy 
can  do  for  religion  by  transforming  herself  into  ‘science  of 
religions,’  455. 


LECTURE  XIX 

Other  Characteristics 458 

.Esthetic  elements  in  religion,  458.  Contrast  of  Catholicism 
and  Protestantism,  461.  Sacrifice  and  Confession,  462.  Prayer, 

463.  Religion  holds  that  spiritual  work  is  really  effected  in 
prayer,  465.  Three  degrees  of  opinion  as  to  what  is  effected, 

467.  First  degree,  468.  Second  degree,  472.  Third  degree, 

474.  Automatisms,  their  frequency  among  religious  leaders, 

478.  Jewish  cases,  479.  Mohammed,  481.  Joseph  Smith,  482. 
Religion  and  the  subconscious  region  in  general,  483. 

LECTURE  XX 

Conclusions 486 

Summary  of  religious  characteristics,  485.  Men’s  religions 
need  not  be  identical,  487.  ‘ The  science  of  religions  ’ can  only 
suggest,  not  proclaim,  a religious  creed,  489.  Is  religion  a ‘ sur- 
vival ’ of  primitive  thought  ? 490.  Modern  science  rules  out  the 
concept  of  personality,  491.  Anthropomorphism  and  belief  in 
the  personal  characterized  pre-scientific  thought,  493.  Personal 
forces  are  real,  in  spite  of  this,  498.  Scientific  objects  are  ab- 
stractions, only  individualized  experiences  are  concrete,  498. 
Religion  holds  by  the  concrete,  500.  Primarily  religion  is  a 
biological  reaction,  504.  Its  simplest  terms  are  an  uneasiness 
and  a deliverance  ; description  of  the  deliverance,  508.  Ques- 


CONTENTS 


xo 


tion  of  the  reality  of  the  higher  power,  510.  The  author's 
hypotheses : 1.  The  subconscious  self  as  intermediating  be- 
tween nature  and  the  higher  region,  511 ; 2.  The  higher 
region,  or  ‘ God,’  515 ; 3.  He  produces  real  effects  in  nature, 

518 

Postscript 520 

Philosophic  position  of  the  present  work  defined  as  piece- 
meal supernaturalism,  520.  Criticism  of  universalistic  super- 
naturalism, 521.  Different  principles  must  occasion  differences 
in  fact,  522.  What  differences  in  fact  can  God’s  existence  oc- 
casion ? 523.  The  question  of  immortality,  524.  Question  of 
God’s  uniqueness  and  infinity : religious  experience  does  not 
settle  this  question  in  the  affirmative,  525.  The  pluralistic  hypo- 
thesis is  more  conformed  to  common  sense,  526. 

Index  9 . 529 


< 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS 
EXPERIENCE 


LECTURE  I 

RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 

IT  is  with  no  small  amount  of  trepidation  that  I take  my 
place  behind  this  desk,  and  face  this  learned  audience. 
To  us  Americans,  the  experience  of  receiving  instruction 
from  the  living  voice,  as  well  as  from  the  books,  of  Euro- 
pean scholars,  is  very  familiar.  At  my  own  University 
of  Harvard,  not  a winter  passes  without  its  harvest,  large 
or  small,  of  lectures  from  Scottish,  English,  French,  or 
German  representatives  of  the  science  or  Hterature  of 
their  respective  countries  whom  we  have  either  induced 
to  cross  the  ocean  to  address  us,  or  captured  on  the  wing 
as  they  were  visiting  our  land.  It  seems  the  natural 
thing  for  us  to  listen  whilst  the  Europeans  talk.  The 
contrary  habit,  of  talking  whilst  the  Europeans  listen,  we 
have  not  yet  acquired ; and  in  him  who  first  makes  the 
adventure  it  begets  a certain  sense  of  apology  being  due 
for  so  presumptuous  an  act.  Particularly  must  this  be  the 
ease  on  a soil  as  sacred  to  the  American  imagination  as 
that  of  Edinburgh.  The  glories  of  the  philosophic  chair 
of  this  university  were  deeply  impressed  on  my  imagina- 
tion in  boyhood.  Professor  Fraser’s  Essays  in  Philo- 
sophy, then  just  published,  was  the  first  philosophic 
book  I ever  looked  into,  and  I well  remember  the  awe- 
struck feehng  I received  from  the  account  of  Sir  Wil- 


8 THE  VARIETIES  OE  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

liam  Hamilton’s  class-room  therein  contained.  Hamilton’s 
own  lectures  were  the  first  philosophic  writings  I ever 
forced  myself  to  study,  and  after  that  I was  immersed 
in  Dugald  Stewart  and  Thomas  Brown.  Such  juvenile 
emotions  of  reverence  never  get  outgrown ; and  I confess 
that  to  find  my  humble  self  promoted  from  my  native 
wilderness  to  be  actually  for  the  time  an  official  here,  and 
transmuted  into  a colleague  of  these  illustrious  names, 
carries  with  it  a sense  of  dreamland  quite  as  much  as  of 
reality. 

But  since  I have  received  the  honor  of  this  appoint- 
ment I have  felt  that  it  would  never  do  to  dechne.  The 
academic  career  also  has  its  heroic  obhgations,  so  I stand 
here  without  further  deprecatory  words.  Let  me  say 
only  this,  that  now  that  the  current,  here  and  at  Aber- 
deen, has  begun  to  run  from  west  to  east,  I hope  it  may 
continue  to  do  so.  As  the  years  go  by,  I hope  that  many 
of  my  countrymen  may  be  asked  to  lecture  in  the  Scot- 
tish universities,  changing  places  with  Scotsmen  lectur- 
ing in  the  United  States ; I hope  that  our  people  may 
become  in  all  these  higher  matters  even  as  one  people ; 
and  that  the  peculiar  philosophic  temperament,  as  well 
as  the  peculiar  poHtical  temperament,  that  goes  with  our 
English  speech  may  more  and  more  pervade  and  influ- 
ence the  world. 

As  regards  the  manner  in  which  I shall  have  to  admin“ 
ister  this  lectureship,  I am  neither  a theologian,  nor  a 
scholar  learned  in  the  history  of  religions,  nor  an  anthro- 
pologist. Psychology  is  the  only  branch  of  learning  in 
which  I am  particularly  versed.  To  the  psychologist  the 
religious  propensities  of  man  must  be  at  least  as  interest- 
ing as  any  other  of  the  facts  pertaining  to  his  mental 
constitution.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that,  as  a psycho- 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGl 


3 


logist,  the  natural  thing  for  me  would  be  to  invite  you 
to  a descriptive  survey  of  those  religious  propensities. 

If  the  inquiry  be  psychological,  not  religious  institu- 
tions, but  rather  religious  feelings  and  religious  impulses 
must  be  its  subject,  and  I must  confine  myself  to  those 
more  developed  subjective  phenomena  recorded  in  litera- 
ture produced  by  articulate  and  fuUy  self-conscious  men, 
in  works  of  piety  and  autobiography.  Interesting  as  the 
origins  and  early  stages  of  a subject  always  are,  yet  when 
one  seeks  earnestly  for  its  full  significance,  one  must 
always  look  to  its  more  completely  evolved  and  perfect 
forms.  It  follows  from  this  that  the  documents  that  will 
most  concern  us  will  be  those  of  the  men  who  were  most 
accomplished  in  the  religious  life  and  best  able  to  give 
an  intelligible  account  of  their  ideas  and  motives.  These 
men,  of  course,  are  either  comparatively  modern  writers, 
or  else  such  earlier  ones  as  have  become  religious  classics. 
The  documents  humains  which  we  shall  find  most  in- 
structive need  not  then  be  sought  for  in  the  haunts  of 
special  erudition — they  lie  along  the  beaten  highway; 
and  this  circumstance,  which  flows  so  naturally  from  the 
character  of  our  problem,  suits  admirably  also  your  lec- 
turer’s lack  of  special  theological  learning.  I may  take 
my  citations,  my  sentences  and  paragraphs  of  personal 
confession,  from  books  that  most  of  you  at  some  time 
will  have  had  already  in  your  hands,  and  yet  this  will 
be  no  detriment  to  the  value  of  my  conclusions.  It  is 
true  that  some  more  adventurous  reader  and  investigator, 
lecturing  here  in  future,  may  unearth  from  the  shelves 
of  libraries  documents  that  will  make  a more  delectable 
and  curious  entertainment  to  listen  to  than  mine.  Yet  I 
doubt  whether  he  will  necessarily,  by  his  control  of  so 
much  more  out-of-the-way  material,  get  much  closer  to 
the  essence  of  the  matter  in  hand. 


4 THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

The  question,  What  are  the  religious  propensities  ? and 
the  question,  What  is  their  philosophic  significance  ? are 
two  entirely  different  orders  of  question  from  the  logical 
point  of  view;  and,  as  a failure  to  recognize  this  fact 
distinctly  may  breed  confusion,  I wish  to  insist  upon 
the  point  a little  before  we  enter  into  the  documents 
and  materials  to  which  I have  referred. 

In  recent  books  on  logic,  distinction  is  made  between 
two  orders  of  inquiry  concerning  anything.  First,  what 
is  the  nature  of  it?  how  did  it  come  about?  what  is  its 
constitution,  origin,  and  history?  And  second,  What  is 
its  importance,  meaning,  or  significance,  now  that  it  is 
once  here?  The  answer  to  the  one  question  is  given 
in  an  existential  judgment  or  proposition.  The  answer 
to  the  other  is  a proposition  of  value,  what  the  Germans 
call  a Werthurtheil,  or  what  we  may,  if  we  like,  denom- 
inate a spiritual  judgment.  Neither  judgment  can  be 
deduced  immediately  from  the  other.  They  proceed 
from  diverse  intellectual  preoccupations,  and  the  mind 
combines  them  only  by  making  them  first  separately,  and 
then  adding  them  together. 

In  the  matter  of  religions  it  is  particularly  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish the  two  orders  of  question.  Every  religious 
phenomenon  has  its  history  and  its  derivation  from  natu- 
ral antecedents.  What  is  nowadays  called  the  higher 
criticism  of  the  Bible  is  only  a study  of  the  Bible  from 
this  existential  point  of  view,  neglected  too  much  by  the 
earlier  church.  Under  just  what  biographic  conditions 
did  the  sacred  writers  bring  forth  their  various  contribu- 
tions to  the  holy  volume  ? And  what  had  they  exactly 
in  their  several  individual  minds,  when  they  delivered 
their  utterances  ? These  are  manifestly  questions  of  his- 
torical fact,  and  one  does  not  see  how  the  answer  to  them 
can  decide  offhand  the  still  further  question  : of  what  use 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


5 


should  such  a volume,  with  its  manner  of  coming  into 
existence  so  defined,  be  to  us  as  a guide  to  life  and  a 
revelation  ? To  answer  this  other  question  we  must  have 
already  in  our  mind  some  sort  of  a general  theory  as  to 
what  the  peculiarities  in  a thing  should  be  which  give  it 
value  for  purposes  of  revelation  ; and  this  theory  itself 
would  be  what  I just  called  a spiritual  judgment.  Com- 
bining it  with  our  existential  judgment,  we  might  indeed 
deduce  another  spiritual  judgment  as  to  the  Bible’s 
worth.  Thus  if  our  theory  of  revelation-value  were  to 
affirm  that  any  book,  to  possess  it,  must  have  been  com- 
posed automatically  or  not  by  the  free  caprice  of  the 
writer,  or  that  it  must  exhibit  no  scientific  and  historic 
errors  and  express  no  local  or  personal  passions,  the  Bible 
would  probably  fare  ill  at  our  hands.  But  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  our  theory  should  allow  that  a book  may 
well  be  a revelation  in  spite  of  errors  and  passions  and 
deliberate  human  composition,  if  only  it  be  a true  record 
of  the  inner  experiences  of  great-souled  persons  wrestling 
with  the  crises  of  their  fate,  then  the  verdict  would  be 
much  more  favorable.  You  see  that  the  existential  facts 
by  themselves  are  insufficient  for  determining  the  value ; 
and  the  best  adepts  of  the  higher  criticism  accordingly 
never  confound  the  existential  with  the  spiritual  problem. 
With  the  same  conclusions  of  fact  before  them,  some 
take  one  view,  and  some  another,  of  the  Bible’s  value  as 
a revelation,  according  as  tbeir  spiritual  judgment  as  to 
the  foundation  of  values  differs. 

I make  these  general  remarks  about  tbe  two  sorts  of 
judgment,  because  there  are  many  religious  persons  — 
some  of  you  now  present,  possibly,  are  among  them  — 
who  do  not  yet  make  a working  use  of  the  distinction, 
and  who  may  therefore  feel  at  first  a little  startled  at 


6 THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  purely  existential  point  of  view  from  which  in  the 
following  lectures  the  phenomena  of  religious  experience 
must  be  considered.  When  I handle  them  biologically 
and  psychologically  as  if  they  were  mere  curious  facts 
of  individual  history,  some  of  you  may  think  it  a degra- 
dation of  so  sublime  a subject,  and  may  even  suspect 
me,  until  my  purpose  gets  more  fully  expressed,  of  dehb- 
erately  seeking  to  discredit  the  religious  side  of  life. 

Such  a result  is  of  course  absolutely  alien  to  my  inten- 
tion ; and  since  such  a prejudice  on  your  part  would  seri- 
ously obstruct  the  due  effect  of  much  of  what  I have  to 
relate,  I will  devote  a few  more  words  to  the  point. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  as  a matter  of  fact  a reli- 
gious life,  exclusively  pursued,  does  tend  to  make  the  per- 
son exceptional  and  eccentric.  I speak  not  now  of  your 
ordinary  religious  believer,  who  follows  the  conventional 
observances  of  his  country,  whether  it  be  Buddhist,  Chris- 
tian, or  Mohammedan.  His  religion  has  been  made  for 
him  by  others,  communicated  to  him  by  tradition,  deter- 
mined to  fixed  forms  by  imitation,  and  retained  by  habit. 
It  would  profit  us  Httle  to  study  this  second-hand  reh- 
gious  life.  We  must  make  search  rather  for  the  original 
experiences  which  were  the  pattern-setters  to  all  this  mass 
of  suggested  feeling  and  imitated  conduct.  These  experi- 
ences we  can  only  find  in  individuals  for  whom  religion 
exists  not  as  a dull  habit,  but  as  an  acute  fever  rather. 
But  such  individuals  are  ‘ geniuses  ’ in  the  religious  line ; 
and  like  many  other  geniuses  who  have  brought  forth 
fruits  effective  enough  for  commemoration  in  the  pages 
of  biography,  such  religious  geniuses  have  often  shown 
symptoms  of  nervous  instability.  Even  more  perhaps 
than  other  kinds  of  genius,  religious  leaders  have  been 
subject  to  abnormal  psychical  visitations.  Invariably 
they  have  been  creatures  of  exalted  emotional  sensibility. 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


7 


Often  they  have  led  a discordant  inner  hfe,  and  had 
jnaelancholy  during  a part  of  their  career.  They  have 
known  no  measure,  been  liable  to  obsessions  and  fixed 
ideas ; and  frequently  they  have  fallen  into  trances, 
heard  voices,  seen  visions,  and  presented  all  sorts  of 
peculiarities  which  are  ordinarily  classed  as  pathological. 
Often,  moreover,  these  pathological  features  in  their 
career  have  helped  to  give  them  their  religious  authority 
and  influence. 

If  you  ask  for  a concrete  example,  there  can  be  no 
better  one  than  is  furnished  by  the  person  of  George 
Fox.  The  Quaker  religion  which  he  founded  is  some- 
thing which  it  is  impossible  to  overpraise.  In  a day  of 
shams,  it  was  a rehgion  of  veracity  rooted  in  spiritual 
inwardness,  and  a return  to  something  more  like  the 
original  gospel  truth  than  men  had  ever  known  in  Eng- 
land. So  far  as  our  Christian  sects  to-day  are  evolving 
into  liberality,  they  are  simply  reverting  in  essence  to  the 
position  which  Fox  and  the  early  Quakers  so  long  ago 
assumed.  No  one  can  pretend  for  a moment  that  in 
point  of  spiritual  sagacity  and  capacity.  Fox’s  mind  was 
unsound.  Every  one  who  confronted  him  personally, 
from  Oliver  Cromwell  down  to  county  magistrates  and 
jailers,  seems  to  have  acknowledged  his  superior  power. 
Yet  from  the  point  of  view  of  his  nervous  constitution. 
Fox  was  a psychopath  or  detraque  of  the  deepest  dye. 
His  Journal  abounds  in  entries  of  this  sort : — 

“ As  I was  walking  with  several  friends,  I lifted  np  my  head, 
and  saw  three  steeple-house  spires,  and  they  struck  at  my 
life.  I asked  them  what  place  that  was  ? They  said,  Lichfield. 
Immediately  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  to  me,  that  I must  go 
thither.  Being  come  to  the  house  we  were  going  to,  I wished 
the  friends  to  walk  into  the  house,  saying  nothing  to  them  of 
whither  I was  to  go.  As  soon  as  they  were  gone  I stept  away, 


8 


THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  went  by  my  eye  over  hedge  and  ditch  till  I came  within 
a mile  of  Lichfield ; where,  in  a great  field,  shepherds  were 
keeping  their  sheep.  Then  was  I commanded  by  the  Lord  to 
pull  off  my  shoes.  I stood  still,  for  it  was  winter  : but  the 
word  of  the  Lord  was  like  a fire  in  me.  So  I put  off  my  shoes, 
and  left  them  with  the  shepherds  ; and  the  poor  shepherds 
trembled,  and  were  astonished.  Then  I walked  on  about  a 
mile,  and  as  soon  as  I was  got  within  the  city,  the  word  of  the 
Lord  came  to  me  again,  saying:  Cry,  ‘ Wo  to  the  bloody  city 
of  Lichfield  ! ’ So  I went  up  and  down  the  streets,  crying 
with  a loud  voice.  Wo  to  the  bloody  city  of  Lichfield  ! It  be- 
ing market  day,  I went  into  the  market-place,  and  to  and  fro  in 
the  several  parts  of  it,  and  made  stands,  crying  as  before,  W o 
to  the  bloody  city  of  Lichfield ! And  no  one  laid  hands  on  me. 
As  I went  thus  crying  through  the  streets,  there  seemed  to  me 
to  be  a channel  of  blood  running  down  the  streets,  and  the 
market-place  appeared  like  a pool  of  blood.  When  I had  de- 
clared what  was  upon  me,  and  felt  myself  clear,  I went  out  of 
the  town  in  peace ; and  returning  to  the  shepherds  gave  them 
some  money,  and  took  my  shoes  of  them  again.  But  the  fire 
of  the  Lord  was  so  on  my  feet,  and  all  over  me,  that  I did  not 
matter  to  put  on  my  shoes  again,  and  was  at  a stand  whether  I 
should  or  no,  till  I felt  freedom  from  the  Lord  so  to  do : then, 
after  I had  washed  my  feet,  I put  on  my  shoes  again.  After 
this  a deep  consideration  came  upon  me,  for  what  reason  I 
should  be  sent  to  cry  against  that  city,  and  call  it  The  bloody 
city  ! For  though  the  parliament  had  the  minister  one  while, 
and  the  king  another,  and  much  blood  had  been  shed  in  the 
town  during  the  wars  between  them,  yet  there  was  no  more 
than  had  befallen  many  other  places.  But  afterwards  I came 
to  understand,  that  in  the  Emperor  Diocletian’s  time  a thousand 
Christians  were  martyr’d  in  Lichfield.  So  I was  to  go,  with- 
out my  shoes,  through  the  channel  of  their  blood,  and  into  the 
pool  of  their  blood  in  the  market-place,  that  I might  raise  up 
the  memorial  of  the  blood  of  those  martyrs,  which  had  been 
shed  above  a thousand  years  before,  and  lay  cold  in  their  streets. 
So  the  sense  of  this  blood  was  upon  me,  and  I obeyed  the  word 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


9 


Bent  as  we  are  on  studying  religion’s  existential  condi- 
tions, we  cannot  possibly  ignore  these  pathological  aspects 
of  the  subject.  We  must  describe  and  name  them  just 
as  if  they  occurred  in  non-rehgioiis  men.  It  is  true  that 
we  instinctively  recoil  from  seeing  an  object  to  which 
our  emotions  and  affections  are  committed  handled  by 
the  intellect  as  any  other  object  is  handled.  The  first 
thing  the  intellect  does  with  an  object  is  to  class  it  along 
with  something  else.  But  any  object  that  is  infinitely 
important  to  us  and  awakens  our  devotion  feels  to  us 
also  as  if  it  must  be  sui  generis  and  unique.  Probably  a 
crab  would  be  filled  with  a sense  of  personal  outrage  if 
it  could  hear  us  class  it  without  ado  or  apology  as  a 
crustacean,  and  thus  dispose  of  it.  “ I am  no  such 
thing,”  it  would  say ; “ I am  myself,  myself  alone.” 

The  next  thing  the  intellect  does  is  to  lay  bare  the 
causes  in  which  the  thing  originates.  Spinoza  says  : “ I 
will  analyze  the  actions  and  appetites  of  men  as  if  it 
were  a question  of  lines,  of  planes,  and  of  solids.”  And 
elsewhere  he  remarks  that  he  will  consider  our  passions 
and  their  properties  with  the  same  eye  with  which  he 
looks  on  all  other  natural  things,  since  the  consequences 
of  our  affections  flow  from  their  nature  with  the  same 
necessity  as  it  results  from  the  nature  of  a triangle  that 
its  three  angles  should  be  equal  to  two  right  angles. 
Similarly  M.  Taine,  in  the  introduction  to  his  history  of 
English  literature,  has  written : “ Whether  facts  be  moral 
or  physical,  it  makes  no  matter.  They  always  have  their 
causes.  There  are  causes  for  ambition,  courage,  veracity, 
just  as  there  are  for  digestion,  muscular  movement,  ani- 
mal heat.  Vice  and  virtue  are  products  like  vitriol  and 
sugar.”  When  we  read  such  proclamations  of  the  intel- 
lect bent  on  showing  the  existential  conditions  of  abso- 


10 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


lutely  everything,  we  feel  - — quite  apart  from  our  legiti* 
mate  impatience  at  the  somewhat  ridiculous  swagger  of 
the  program,  in  view  of  what  the  authors  are  actually 
able  to  perform  — menaced  and  negated  in  the  springs 
of  our  innermost  life.  Such  cold-blooded  assimilations 
threaten,  we  think,  to  undo  our  soul’s  vital  secrets,  as 
if  the  same  breath  which  should  succeed  in  explaining 
their  origin  would  simultaneously  explain  away  their  sig- 
nificance, and  make  them  appear  of  no  more  precious- 
ness, either,  than  the  useful  groceries  of  which  M.  Taine 
speaks. 

Perhaps  the  commonest  expression  of  this  assumption 
that  spiritual  value  is  undone  if  lowly  origin  be  asserted 
is  seen  in  those  comments  which  unsentimental  people 
so  often  pass  on  their  more  sentimental  acquaintances. 
Alfred  believes  in  immortality  so  strongly  because  his 
temperament  is  so  emotional.  Fanny’s  extraordinary 
conscientiousness  is  merely  a matter  of  over-instigated 
nerves.  William’s  melancholy  about  the  universe  is  due 
to  bad  digestion  — probably  his  liver  is  torpid.  Eliza’s 
delight  in  her  church  is  a symptom  of  her  hysterical 
constitution.  Peter  would  be  less  troubled  about  his  soul 
if  he  would  take  more  exercise  in  the  open  air,  etc. 
A more  fully  developed  example  of  the  same  kind  of 
reasoning  is  the  fashion,  quite  common  nowadays  among 
certain  writers,  of  criticising  the  religious  emotions  by 
showing  a connection  between  them  and  the  sexual  life. 
Conversion  is  a crisis  of  puberty  and  adolescence.  The 
macerations  of  saints,  and  the  devotion  of  missionaries, 
are  only  instances  of  the  parental  instinct  of  self-sacrifice 
gone  astray.  For  the  hysterical  nun,  starving  for  natural 
life,  Christ  is  but  an  imaginary  substitute  for  a more 
earthly  object  of  affection.  And  the  like.^ 

' As  with  many  ideas  that  float  in  the  air  of  one’s  time,  this  notion 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


11 


We  are  surely  all  familiar  in  a general  way  with  this 
method  of  discrediting  states  of  mind  for  which  we  have 

shrinks  from  dogmatic  general  statement  and  expresses  itself  only  partially 
and  by  innuendo.  It  seems  to  me  that  few  conceptions  are  less  instructive 
than  this  re-iuterpretation  of  religion  as  perverted  sexuality.  It  reminds 
one,  30  crudely  is  it  often  employed,  of  the  famous  Catholic  taunt,  that  the 
Reformation  may  be  best  understood  by  remembering  that  its /on^  et  origo 
was  Luther’s  wish  to  marry  a nun  : — the  effects  are  infinitely  wider  than 
the  alleged  causes,  and  for  the  most  part  opposite  in  nature.  It  is  true 
that  in  the  vast  collection  of  religious  phenomena,  some  are  undisguisedly 
amatory  — e.  g.,  sex-deities  and  obscene  rites  in  polytheism,  and  ecstatic 
feelings  of  union  with  the  Saviour  in  a few  Christian  mystics.  But  then 
why  not  equally  call  religion  an  aberration  of  the  digestive  function,  and 
prove  one’s  point  by  the  worship  of  Bacch-iS  and  Ceres,  or  by  the  ecstatic 
feelings  of  some  other  saints  about  the  Eucharist  ? Religious  language 
clothes  itself  in  such  poor  symbols  as  our  life  affords,  and  the  whole  organ- 
ism gives  overtones  of  comment  whenever  the  mind  is  strongly  stirred  ta 
expression.  Language  drawn  from  eating  and  drinking  is  probably  as  com- 
mon in  religious  literature  as  is  language  drawn  from  the  sexual  life.  We 
‘ hunger  and  thirst  ’ after  righteousness  ; we  ‘ find  the  Lord  a sweet  savor  ; 
we  ‘ taste  and  see  that  he  is  good.’  ‘ Spiritual  milk  for  American  babes, 
drawn  from  the  breasts  of  both  testaments,’  is  a sub-title  of  the  once  famous 
New  England  Primer,  and  Christian  devotional  literature  indeed  quite  floats 
in  milk,  thought  of  from  the  point  of  view,  not  of  the  mother,  but  of  the 
g^reedy  babe. 

Saint  Francois  de  Sales,  for  instance,  thus  describes  the  ‘ orison  of 
quietude  ’ : “ In  this  state  the  soul  is  like  a little  child  still  at  the  breast, 
whose  mother,  to  caress  him  whilst  he  is  still  in  her  arms,  makes  her  milk 
distill  into  his  mouth  without  his  even  moving  his  lips.  So  it  is  here.  . . , 
Our  Lord  desires  that  our  will  should  be  satisfied  with  sucking  the  milk 
which  His  Majesty  pours  into  our  mouth,  and  that  we  should  relish  the 
sweetness  without  even  knowing  that  it  cometh  from  the  Lord.”  And 
again:  “Consider  the  little  infants,  united  and  joined  to  the  breasts  of 
their  nursing  mothers,  you  will  see  that  from  time  to  time  they  press  them- 
selves closer  by  little  starts  to  which  the  pleasure  of  sucking  prompts  them. 
Even  so,  during  its  orison,  the  heart  united  to  its  God  oftentimes  makes 
attempts  at  closer  union  by  movements  during  which  it  presses  closer  upon 
the  divine  sweetness.”  Chemin  de  la  Perfection,  ch.  xxxi. ; Amour  de  Dieu, 
vii.  ch.  i. 

In  fact,  one  might  almost  as  well  interpret  religion  as  a perversion  of 
the  respiratory  function.  The  Bible  is  full  of  the  language  of  respiratory 
oppression  : “ Hide  not  thine  ear  at  my  breathing  ; my  groaning  is  not  hid 
from  tbee  ; my  heart  panteth,  my  strength  faileth  me  ; my  bones  are  hot 
with  my  roaring  all  the  night  long  ; as  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water- 


12 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


an  antipathy.  We  all  use  it  to  some  degree  in  criticising 
persons  whose  states  of  mind  we  regard  as  overstrained. 
But  when  other  people  criticise  our  own  more  exalted 
soul-flights  by  calling  them  ‘nothing  but’  expressions 
of  our  organic  disposition,  we  feel  outraged  and  hurt,  for 
we  know  that,  whatever  be  our  organism’s  peculiarities, 
our  mental  states  have  their  substantive  value  as  revela- 

'orooks,  so  my  soul  panteth  after  thee,  O my  God.’’  God's  Breath  in 
Man  is  the  title  of  the  chief  work  of  our  best  known  American  mystic 
(Thomas  Lake  Harris)  ; and  in  certain  non-Christian  countries  the  founda- 
tion of  all  religious  discipline  consists  in  regulation  of  the  inspiration  and 
expiration. 

These  arguments  are  as  good  as  much  of  the  reasoning  one  hears  in  favor 
of  the  sexual  theory.  But  the  champions  of  the  latter  will  then  say  that 
their  chief  argument  has  no  analogue  elsewhere.  The  two  main  phenomena 
of  religion,  namely,  melancholy  and  conversion,  they  will  say,  are  essentially 
phenomena  of  adolescence,  and  therefore  synchronous  with  the  develop- 
ment of  sexual  life.  To  which  the  retort  again  is  easy.  Even  were  the 
asserted  synchrony  unrestrictedly  true  as  a fact  (which  it  is  not),  it  is  not 
only  the  sexual  life,  but  the  entire  higher  mental  life  which  awakens  during 
adolescence.  One  might  then  as  well  set  up  the  thesis  thv  t the  interest 
in  mechanics,  physics,  chemistry,  logic,  philosophy,  and  sociology,  which 
springs  up  during  adolescent  years  along  with  that  in  poetry  and  religion, 
is  also  a perversion  of  the  sexual  instinct  : — but  that  would  be  too  absurd. 
Moreover,  if  the  argument  from  synchrony  is  to  decide,  what  is  to  be  done 
with  the  fact  that  the  religious  age  par  excellence  would  seem  to  be  old  age, 
when  the  uproar  of  the  sexual  life  is  past  ? 

The  plain  truth  is  that  to  interpret  religion  one  must  in  the  end  look  at 
the  immediate  content  of  the  religious  consciousness.  The  moment  one 
does  this,  one  sees  how  wholly  disconnected  it  is  in  the  main  from  the  con- 
tent of  the  sexual  consciousness.  Everything  about  the  two  things  differs, 
objects,  moods,  faculties  concerned,  and  acts  impelled  to.  Any  general 
assimilation  is  simply  impossible  ; what  we  find  most  often  is  complete  hos- 
tility and  contrast.  If  now  the  defenders  of  the  sex-theory  say  that  this 
makes  no  difference  to  their  thesis  ; that  without  the  chemical  contributions 
which  the  sex-organs  make  to  the  blood,  the  brain  would  not  be  nourished 
80  as  to  carry  on  religious  activities,  this  final  proposition  may  be  true  or 
not  true  ; but  at  any  rate  it  bas  become  profoundly  uninstructive  : we  can 
deduce  no  consequences  from  it  which  help  us  to  interpret  religion’s  mean- 
ing or  value.  In  this  sense  the  religious  life  depends  just  as  much  upon 
the  spleen,  the  pancreas,  and  the  kidneys  as  on  the  sexual  apparatus,  and 
the  whole  theory  has  lost  its  point  in  evaporating  into  a vague  general 
assertion  of  the  dependence,  somehow,  of  the  mind  upon  the  body. 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


13 


tions  of  the  living  truth ; and  we  wish  that  all  this  medi- 
cal materialism  could  be  made  to  hold  its  tongue. 

Medical  materiahsm  seems  indeed  a good  appellation 
for  the  too  simple-minded  system  of  thought  which  we 
are  considering.  Medical  materialism  finishes  up  Saint 
Paul  by  calling  his  vision  on  the  road  to  Damascus  a 
discharging  lesion  of  the  occipital  cortex,  he  being  an 
epileptic.  It  snuffs  out  Saint  Teresa  as  an  hysteric,  Saint 
Francis  of  Assisi  as  an  hereditary  degenerate.  George 
Fox’s  discontent  with  the  shams  of  his  age,  and  his  pining 
for  spiritual  veracity,  it  treats  as  a symptom  of  a disor- 
dered colon.  Carlyle’s  organ-tones  of  misery  it  accounts 
for  by  a gastro-duodenal  catarrh.  All  such  mental  over- 
tensions, it  says,  are,  when  you  come  to  the  bottom  of 
the  matter,  mere  affairs  of  diathesis  (auto-intoxications 
most  probably),  due  to  the  perverted  action  of  various 
glands  which  physiology  will  yet  discover. 

And  medical  materialism  then  thinks  that  the  spiritual 
authority  of  all  such  personages  is  successfully  under- 
mined. ‘ 

Let  us  ourselves  look  at  the  matter  in  the  larsfesi 
possible  way.  Modern  psychology,  finding  definite  psy- 
cho-physical connections  to  hold  good,  assumes  as  a con- 
venient hypothesis  that  the  dependence  of  mental  states 
upon  bodily  conditions  must  be  thorough-going  and  com- 
plete. If  we  adopt  the  assumption,  then  of  course  what 
medical  materialism  insists  on  must  be  true  in  a general 
way,  if  not  in  every  detail : Saint  Paul  certainly  had 
once  an  epileptoid,  if  not  an  epileptic  seizure ; George  Fox 
was  an  hereditary  degenerate;  Carlyle  was  undoubtedly 
auto-intoxicated  by  some  organ  or  other,  no  matter  which, 

* For  a first-rate  example  of  medical-materialist  reasoning,  see  an  article 
on  ‘ les  Varidtds  dn  Type  ddvot,’  by  Dr.  Binet-Sangld,  in  the  Revue  de 
I’Hypnotisme,  xiv.  161. 


14  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

— and  the  rest.  But  now,  I ask  you,  how  can  such  an 
existential  account  of  facts  of  mental  history  decide  in 
one  way  or  another  upon  their  spiritual  significance  ? 
According  to  the  general  postulate  of  psychology  just 
referred  to,  there  is  not  a single  one  of  our  states  of 
mind,  high  or  low,  healthy  or  morbid,  that  has  not  some 
organic  process  as  its  condition.  Scientific  theories  are 
organically  conditioned  just  as  much  as  religious  emotions 
are ; and  if  we  only  knew  the  facts  intimately  enough, 
we  should  doubtless  see  ‘ the  liver  ’ determining  the  dicta 
of  the  sturdy  atheist  as  decisively  as  it  does  those  of  the 
Methodist  under  conviction  anxious  about  his  soul. 
When  it  alters  in  one  way  the  blood  that  percolates  it, 
we  get  the  methodist,  when  in  another  way,  we  get  the 
atheist  form  of  mind.  So  of  all  our  raptures  and  our 
drynesses,  our  longings  and  pantings,  our  questions  and 
beliefs.  They  are  equally  organically  founded,  be  they 
of  religious  or  of  non-religious  content. 

To  plead  the  organic  causation  of  a religious  state  of 
mind,  then,  in  refutation  of  its  claim  to  possess  superior 
spiritual  value,  is  quite  illogical  and  arbitrary,  unless  one 
have  already  worked  out  in  advance  some  psycho-physical 
theory  connecting  spiritual  values  in  general  with  deter- 
minate sorts  of  physiological  change.  Otherwise  none  of 
our  thoughts  and  feelings,  not  even  our  scientific  doc- 
trines, not  even  our  c?is-beliefs,  could  retain  any  value  as 
revelations  of  the  truth,  for  every  one  of  them  without 
exception  flows  from  the  state  of  their  possessor’s  body 
at  the  time. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  medical  materialism  draws  in 
point  of  fact  no  such  sweeping  skeptical  conclusion.  It 
is  sure,  just  as  every  simple  man  is  sure,  that  some  states 
of  mind  are  inwardly  superior  to  others,  and  reveal  to  us 
more  truth,  and  in  this  it  simply  makes  use  of  an  ordinary 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGIC 


15 


spiritual  judgment.  It  has  no  physiological  theory  of  the 
production  of  these  its  favorite  states,  by  which  it  may 
accredit  them ; and  its  attempt  to  discredit  the  states 
which  it  dislikes,  by  vaguely  associating  them  with  nerves 
and  liver,  and  connecting  them  with  names  connoting 
bodily  affliction,  is  altogether  illogical  and  inconsistent. 

Let  us  play  fair  in  this  whole  matter,  and  be  quite 
candid  with  ourselves  and  with  the  facts.  When  we 
think  certain  states  of  mind  superior  to  others,  is  it  ever 
because  of  what  we  know  concerning  their  organic  ante- 
cedents? No ! it  is  always  for  two  entirely  different  rea- 
It 


sons. 


is  either  because  we  take  an  immediate  delisht 

o 


in  them  ; or  else  it  is  because  we  believe  them  to  bring 
us  good  consequential  fruits  for  life.  When  we  speak 
disparagingly  of  ‘ feverish  fancies,’  surely  the  fever-pro- 
cess as  such  is  not  the  ground  of  our  disesteem  — for 
aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  103°  or  104°  Fahrenheit 
might  be  a much  more  favorable  temperature  for  truths 
to  germinate  and  sprout  in,  than  the  more  ordinary 
blood-heat  of  97  or  98  degrees.  It  is  either  the  disagree- 
ableness itself  of  the  fancies,  or  their  inability  to  bear  the 
criticisms  of  the  convalescent  hour.  When  we  praise  the 
thoughts  which  health  brings,  health’s  peculiar  chemical 
metabolisms  have  nothing  to  do  with  determining  our 
judgment.  We  know  in  fact  almost  nothing  about  these 
metabolisms.  It  is  the  character  of  inner  happiness  in 
the  thoughts  which  stamps  them  as  good,  or  else  their 
consistency  with  our  other  opinions  and  their  serviceability  |j 
for  our  needs,  which  make  them  pass  for  true  in  our 
esteem. 

Now  the  more  intrinsic  and  the  more  remote  of  these 
criteria  do  not  always  hang  together.  Inner  happiness 
and  serviceability  do  not  always  agree.  What  immedi- 
iately  feels  most  ‘good’  is  not  always  most  ‘true,’  when 


16 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


measured  by  the  verdict  of  the  rest  of  experience.  The 
difference  between  Philip  drunk  and  Philip  sober  is 
the  classic  instance  in  corroboration.  If  merely  ‘ feeling 
good  ’ could  decide,  drunkenness  would  be  the  supremely 
valid  human  experience.  But  its  revelations,  however 
acutely  satisfying  at  the  moment,  are  inserted  into  an 
environment  which  refuses  to  bear  them  out  for  any 
length  of  time.  The  consequence  of  this  discrepancy  of 
the  two  criteria  is  the  uncertainty  which  still  prevails 
over  so  many  of  our  spiritual  judgments.  There  are 
moments  of  sentimental  and  mystical  experience  — we 
shall  hereafter  hear  much  of  them  — that  carry  an  enor- 
mous sense  of  inner  authority  and  illumination  with  them 
when  they  come.  But  they  come  seldom,  and  they  do 
not  come  to  every  one ; and  the  rest  of  life  makes  either 
no  connection  with  them,  or  tends  to  contradict  them 
more  than  it  confirms  them.  Some  persons  follow  more 
the  voice  of  the  moment  in  these  cases,  some  prefer  to 
be  guided  by  the  average  results.  Hence  the  sad  dis- 
cordancy of  so  many  of  the  spiritual  judgments  of  human 
beings  ; a discordancy  which  will  be  brought  home  to  us 
acutely  enough  before  these  lectures  end. 

It  is,  however,  a discordancy  that  can  never  be  resolved 
by  any  merely  medical  test.  A good  example  of  the  im- 
possibility of  holding  strictly  to  the  medical  tests  is  seen 
in  the  theory  of  the  pathological  causation  of  genius  pro- 
mulgated by  recent  authors.  “ Genius,”  said  Dr.  Moreau, 
“is  but  one  of  the  many  branches  of  the  neuropathic 
tree.”  “ Genius,”  says  Dr.  Lombroso,  “ is  a symptom  of  j 
hereditary  degeneration  of  the  epileptoid  variety,  and  is^ 
allied  to  moral  insanity.”  “ Whenever  a man’s  life,”  | 
writes  Mr.  Nisbet,  “ is  at  once  sufficiently  illustrious  and, 
recorded  with  sufficient  fullness  to  be  a subject  of  profit* 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


17 


flble  study,  he  inevitably  falls  into  the  morbid  category. 
. . . And  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that,  as  a rule,  the 
greater  the  genius,  the  greater  the  unsoundness.”  ^ 

Now  do  these  authors,  after  having  succeeded  in  estab- 
lishing to  their  own  satisfaction  that  the  works  of  genius 
are  fruits  of  disease,  consistently  proceed  thereupon  to 
impugn  the  value  of  the  fruits  ? Do  they  deduce  a new 
spiritual  judgment  from  their  new  doctrine  of  existential 
conditions  ? Do  they  frankly  forbid  us  to  admire  the  pro- 
ductions of  genius  from  now  onwards  ? and  say  outright 
that  no  neuropath  can  ever  be  a revealer  of  new  truth  ? 

No ! their  immediate  spiritual  instincts  are  too  strong 
for  them  here,  and  hold  their  own  against  inferences 
which,  in  mere  love  of  logical  consistency,  medical  mate- 
rialism ought  to  be  only  too  glad  to  draw.  One  disciple 
|Of  the  school,  indeed,  has  striven  to  impugn  the  value  of 
works  of  genius  in  a wholesale  way  (such  works  of  con- 
temporary art,  namely,  as  he  himself  is  unable  to  enjoy, 
and  they  are  many)  by  using  medical  arguments.^  But 
for  the  most  part  the  masterpieces  are  left  unchallenged  ; 
land  the  medical  line  of  attack  either  confines  itself  to 
such  secular  productions  as  every  one  admits  to  be  intrin- 
sically eccentric,  or  else  addresses  itself  exclusively  to 
religious  manifestations.  And  then  it  is  because  the 
religious  manifestations  have  been  already  condemned 
because  the  critic  dislikes  them  on  internal  or  spiritual 
grounds. 

In  the  natural  sciences  and  industrial  arts  it  never 
occurs  to  any  one  to  try  to  refute  opinions  by  show- 
ing up  their  author’s  neurotic  constitution.  Opinions 
tiere  are  invariably  tested  by  logic  and  by  experiment,  no 

^ J.  F.  Nisbet:  The  Insanity  of  Genius,  3d  ed.,  Loudon,  1893,  pp.  xvi, 
csiv. 

* Max  Nokdau,  in  his  bulky  book  entitled  Degeneration. 


18 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


matter  what  may  be  their  author’s  neurological  type.  It 
should  be  no  otherwise  with  religious  opinions.  Their 
value  can  only  be  ascertained  by  spiritual  judgments 
directly  passed  upon  them,  judgments  based  on  our  own 
immediate  feeling  primarily ; and  secondarily  on  what  we 
can  ascertain  of  their  experiential  relations  to  our  moral  j 
needs  and  to  the  rest  of  what  we  liold  as  true. 

Immediate  luminousness,  in  short,  philosophical  rea^ 
{ sonableness,  and  moral  helpfidness  are  the  only  avail- 
\ able  criteria.  Saint  Teresa  might  have  had  the  nervous 
^ system  of  the  placidest  cow,  and  it  would  not  now  save' 
her  theology,  if  the  trial  of  the  theology  by  these  other 
tests  should  show  it  to  be  contemptible.  And  conversely* 
if  her  theology  can  stand  these  other  tests,  it  will  make^ 
no  difference  how  hysterical  or  nervously  off  her  balance 
Saint  Teresa  may  have  been  when  she  was  with  us  here 
below. 


You  see  that  at  bottom  we  are  thrown  back  upon  the 
general  principles  by  which  the  empirical  philosophy  has 
always  contended  that  we  must  be  guided  in  our  search 
for  truth.  Dogmatic  philosophies  have  sought  for  tests 
for  truth  which  might  dispense  us  from  appealing  to  the 
future.  Some  direct  mark,  by  noting  which  we  can  be’ 
protected  immediately  and  absolutely,  now  and  foreverj 
against  all  mistake  — such  has  been  the  darling  dream' 


of  philosophic  dogmatists.  It  is  clear  that  tlie  origin  of 
the  truth  would  be  an  admirable  criterion  of  this  sort,  if 
only  the  various  origins  could  be  discriminated  from  one 
another  from  this  point  of  view,  and  the  history  of  dog- 
matic opinion  shows  that  origin  has  always  been  a favorite 
test.  Origin  in  immediate  intuition ; origin  in  pontifical 
authority;  origin  in  supernatural  revelation,  as’byvisionj 
hearing,  or  unaccountable  impression ; origin  in  direcf 


KELIGION  AND  NEUKOLOGY 


19 


possession  by  a higher  spirit,  expressing  itself  in  pro- 
phecy and  warning ; origin  in  automatic  utterance  gen- 
erally, — these  origins  have  been  stock  warrants  for  the 
truth  of  one  opinion  after  another  which  we  find  repre- 
sented in  religious  history.  The  medical  materialists  are 
therefore  only  so  many  belated  dogmatists,  neatly  turning 
the  tables  on  their  predecessors  by  using  the  criterion  of 
origin  in  a destructive  instead  of  an  accreditive  way. 

They  are  effective  with  their  talk  of  pathological 
origin  only  so  long  as  supernatural  origin  is  pleaded  by 
the  other  side,  and  nothing  but  the  argument  from 
origin  is  under  discussion.  But  the  argument  from  ori- 
gin has  seldom  been  used  alone,  for  it  is  too  obviously 
insufficient.  Dr.  Maudsley  is  perhaps  the  cleverest  of 
the  rebutters  of  supernatural  religion  on  grounds  of  ori- 
[gin.  Yet  he  finds  himself  forced  to  write : — 

“ What  right  have  we  to  beheve  Nature  under  any 
obligation  to  do  her  work  by  means  of  complete  minds 
only?  She  may  find  an  incomplete  mind  a more  suit- 
able instrument  for  a particular  purpose.  It  is  the  work 
that  is  done,  and  the  quality  in  the  worker  by  which  it 
was  done,  that  is  alone  of  moment ; and  it  may  be  no 
great  matter  from  a cosmical  standpoint,  if  in  other 
qualities  of  character  he  was  singularly  defective  — if 
indeed  he  were  hypocrite,  adulterer,  eccentric,  or  lunatic. 

. . . Home  we  come  again,  then,  to  the  old  and  last  resort 
of  certitude,  — namely  the  common  assent  of  mankind, 
or  of  the  competent  by  instruction  and  training  among 
mankind.”  ^ 

In  other  words,  not  its  origin,  but  the  way  in  which  it 
works  on  the  whole,  is  Dr.  Maudsley’s  final  test  of  a 
belief.  This  is  our  own  empiricist  criterion  ; and  this  cri- 

' ^ H.  Maudsley  : Natural  Causes  and  Supernatural  Seemings,  1886) 
‘pp.  257,  256. 


20 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


terion  the  stoutest  insisters  on  supernatural  origin  have  also 
been  forced  to  use  in  the  end.  Among  the  visions  and 
messages  some  have  always  been  too  patently  silly,  among 
the  trances  and  convulsive  seizures  some  have  been  too 
fruitless  for  conduct  and  character,  to  pass  themselves 
off  as  significant,  still  less  as  divine.  In  the  history 
of  Christian  mysticism  the  problem  how  to  discriminate 
between  such  messages  and  experiences  as  were  really 
divine  miracles,  and  such  others  as  the  demon  in  his 
malice  was  able  to  counterfeit,  thus  making  the  religious 
person  twofold  more  the  child  of  heU  he  was  before,  has 
always  been  a difficult  one  to  solve,  needing  all  the  saga- 
city and  experience  of  the  best  directors  of  conscience. 
In  the  end  it  had  to  come  to  our  empiricist  criterion  : By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them,  not  by  their  roots. 
Jonathan  Edwards’s  Treatise  on  Religious  Affections  is 
an  elaborate  working  out  of  this  thesis.  The  roots  of 
a man’s  virtue  are  inaccessible  to  us.  No  appearances 
whatever  are  infallible  proofs  of  grace.  Our  practice  is 
the  only  sure  evidence,  even  to  ourselves,  that  we  are 
genuinely  Christians. 


“ In  forming  a judgment  of  ourselves  now,”  Edwards  writes, 
“ we  should  certainly  adopt  that  evidence  which  our  supreme 
Judge  will  chiefly  make  use  of  when  we  come  to  stand  before 
him  at  the  last  day.  . . . There  is  not  one  grace  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  of  the  existence  of  which,  in  any  professor  of  religion, 
Christian  practice  is  not  the  most  decisive  evidence.  . . . The 
[degree  in  which  our  experience  is  productive  of  practice  shows 
the  degree  in  which  our  experience  is  spiritual  and  divine.”  i 


Catholic  writers  are  equally  emphatic.  The  good  dis-j 
positions  which  a vision,  or  voice,  or  other  apparent 
heavenly  favor  leave  behind  them  are  the  only  marks  byj 
which  we  may  be  sure  they  are  not  possible  deceptions  Oi*| 
the  tempter.  Says  Saint  Teresa : — ' 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


21 


“ Like  imperfect  sleep  which,  instead  of  giving  more  strength 
to  the  head,  doth  but  leave  it  the  more  exhausted,  the  result  of 
mere  operations  of  the  imagination  is  but  to  weaken  the  soul. 
Instead  of  nourishment  and  energy  she  reaps  only  lassitude  and 
disgust : whereas  a genuine  heavenly  vision  yields  to  her  a har- 
vest of  ineffable  spiritual  riches,  and  an  admii-able  renewal  of 
bodily  strength,  i alleged  these  reasons  to  those  who  so  often 
accused  my  visions  of  being  the  work  of  the  enemy  of  mankind 
and  the  sport  of  my  imagination.  ...  I showed  them  the  jew- 
els which  the  divine  hand  had  left  with  me : — they  were  my 
actual  dispositions.  All  those  who  knew  me  saw  that  I was 
changed  ; my  confessor  bore  witness  to  the  fact ; this  improve- 
ment, palpable  in  all  respects,  far  from  being  hidden,  was  bril- 
liantly evident  to  all  men.  As  for  myself,  it  was  impossible  to 
believe  that  if  the  demon  were  its  author,  he  could  have  used, 
in  order  to  lose  me  and  lead  me  to  hell,  an  expedient  so  con- 
trary to  his  own  interests  as  that  of  uprooting  my  vices,  and 
I filling  me  with  masculine  courage  and  other  virtues  instead,  for 
I saw  clearly  that  a single  one  of  these  visions  was  enough  to 
i enrich  me  with  all  that  wealth.”  ^ 

I fear  I may  have  made  a longer  excursus  than  was 
necessary,  and  that  fewer  words  would  have  dispelled  the 
i uneasiness  which  may  have  arisen  among  some  of  you  as 
; I announced  my  pathological  programme.  At  any  rate 
I you  must  all  be  ready  now  to  judge  the  religious  life  by 
I its  results  exclusivelv,  and  I shall  assume  that  the  bus:a- 
boo  of  morbid  origin  will  scandalize  your  piety  no  more. 

! Still,  you  may  ask  me,  if  its  results  are  to  be  the  ground 
I of  our  final  spiritual  estimate  of  a rehgious  phenomenon, 
I why  threaten  us  at  all  with  so  much  existential  study  of 
I its  conditions  ? Why  not  simply  leave  pathological  ques* 
j tions  out  ? 

To  this  I reply  in  two  ways : First,  I say,  irrepressible 
curiosity  imperiously  leads  one  on ; and  I say,  secondly, 

1 Autobiography,  ch.  xxviii. 


22 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  it  always  leads  to  a better  understanding  of  a thing’s! 
significance  to  consider  its  exaggerations  and  perversions, 
its  equivalents  and  substitutes  and  nearest  relatives  else- 
where. Not  that  we  may  thereby  swamp  the  thing  in 
the  wholesale  condemnation  which  we  pass  on  its  inferior 
congeners,  but  rather  that  we  may  by  contrast  ascertain 
the  more  precisely  in  what  its  merits  consist,  by  learning 
at  the  same  time  to  what  particular  dangers  of  corruption 
it  may  also  be  exposed. 

Insane  conditions  have  this  advantage,  that  they  isolate 
special  factors  of  the  mental  life,  and  enable  us  to  inspect 
them  unmasked  by  their  more  usual  surroundings.  They 
play  the  part  in  mental  anatomy  which  the  scalpel  and 
the  microscope  play  in  the  anatomy  of  the  body.  To 
understand  a thing  rightly  we  need  to  see  it  both  out  of 
its  environment  and  in  it,  and  to  have  acquaintance  with 
the  whole  range  of  its  variations.  The  study  of  halluci- 
nations has  in  this  way  been  for  psychologists  the  key 
to  their  comprehension  of  normal  sensation,  that  of  illu- 
sions has  been  the  key  to  the  right  comprehension  of  per- 
ception. Morbid  impulses  and  imperative  conceptions, 

‘ fixed  ideas,’  so  called,  have  thrown  a flood  of  light  on 
the  psychology  of  the  normal  will ; and  obsessions  and 
delusions  have  performed  the  same  service  for  that  of 
the  normal  faculty  of  belief. 

Similarly,  the  nature  of  genius  has  been  illuminated 
by  the  attempts,  of  which  I already  made  mention,  to 
class  it  with  psychopathical  phenomena.  Borderland 
insanity,  crankiness,  insane  temperament,  loss  of  mental 
balance,  psychopathic  degeneration  (to  use  a few  of  the 
many  synonyms  by  which  it  has  been  called),  has  certain 
peculiarities  and  liabilities  which,  when  combined  with  a 
superior  quality  of  intellect  in  an  individual,  make  it 
more  probable  that  he  will  make  his  mark  and  affect  his 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


23 


age,  than  if  his  temperament  were  less  neurotic.  There 
' is  of  course  no  special  affinity  between  crankiness  as  such 
and  superior  intellect,^  for  most  psychopaths  have  feeble 
intellects,  and  superior  intellects  more  commonly  have 
normal  nervous  systems.  But  the  psychopathic  tempera- 
ment, whatever  be  the  intellect  with  which  it  finds  itself 
paired,  often  brings  with  it  ardor  and  excitability  of 
' character.  The  cranky  person  has  extraordinary  emo- 
tional susceptibility.  He  is  liable  to  fixed  ideas  and 
obsessions.  His  conceptions  tend  to  pass  immediately 
into  belief  and  action  ; and  when  he  gets  a new  idea,  he 
has  no  rest  till  he  proclaims  it,  or  in  some  way  ‘ works  it 
off.’  “What  shall  I think  of  it?”  a common  person 
says  to  himself  about  a vexed  question ; but  in  a 
; ‘ cranky  ’ mind  “ What  must  I do  about  it  ? ” is  the  form 
I the  question  tends  to  take.  In  the  autobiography  of  that 
: high-souled  woman,  Mrs.  Annie  Besant,  I read  the  follow- 
1 ing  passage : “ Plenty  of  people  wish  well  to  any  good 
• cause,  but  very  few  care  to  exert  themselves  to  help  it, 

I and  still  fewer  will  risk  anything  in  its  support.  ‘ Some 
i one  ought  to  do  it,  but  why  should  I ? ’ is  the  ever 
I reechoed  phrase  of  weak-kneed  amiability.  ‘ Some  one 
I ought  to  do  it,  so  why  not  I ? ’ is  the  cry  of  some  ear- 
inest  servant  of  man,  eagerly  forward  springing  to  face 
some  perilous  duty.  Between  these  two  sentences  lie 
whole  centm-ies  of  moral  evolution.”  True  enough! 
and  between  these  two  sentences  lie  also  the  different 
i destinies  of  the  ordinary  sluggard  and  the  psychopathic 
;man.  Thus,  when  a superior  intellect  and  a psychopathic 
[temperament  coalesce  — as  in  the  endless  permutations 
land  combinations  of  human  faculty,  they  are  bound  to 
j coalesce  often  enough  — in  the  same  individual,  we  have 

^ Superior  intellect,  as  Professor  Bain  has  admirably  shown,  seems  to 
consist  in  nothing  so  much  as  in  a large  development  of  the  faculty  of  asso- 
elation  by  similarity. 


24 


THE  VAJaiETJES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


the  best  possible  condition  for  the  kind  of  effective 
genius  that  gets  into  the  biographical  dictionaries.  Such 
men  do  not  remain  mere  critics  and  understanders  with 
their  intellect.  Their  ideas  possess  them,  they  inflict 
them,  for  better  or  worse,  upon  their  companions  or 
their  age.  It  is  they  who  get  counted  when  Messrs  Lom- 
broso,  Nisbet,  and  others  invoke  statistics  to  defend  their 
paradox. 

To  pass  now  to  religious  phenomena,  take  the  mel- 
ancholy which,  as  we  shall  see,  constitutes  an  essential 
moment  in  every  complete  religious  evolution.  Take  the 
happiness  which  achieved  religious  belief  confers.  Take 
the  trance-like  states  of  insight  into  truth  which  all  reli- 
gious mystics  report.^  These  are  each  and  all  of  them 
special  cases  of  kinds  of  human  experience  of  much  wider 
scope.  Religious  melancholy,  whatever  peculiarities  ii 
may  have  qua  religious,  is  at  any  rate  melancholy.  Reli 
gious  happiness  is  happiness.  Religious  trance  is  trance. 
And  the  moment  we  renounce  the  absurd  notion  that  a , 
thing  is  exploded  away  as  soon  as  it  is  classed  withj 
others,  or  its  origin  is  shown ; the  moment  we  agree  to) 
stand  by  experimental  results  and  inner  quality,  in  judg- 
ing of  values,  — who  does  not  see  that  we  are  likely  to] 
ascertain  the  distinctive  significance  of  religious  melan-| 
choly  and  happiness,  or  of  religious  trances,  far  better 
by  comparing  them  as  conscientiously  as  we  can  with 
other  varieties  of  melancholy,  happiness,  and  trance,  than 
by  refusing  to  consider  their  place  in  any  more  general 
series,  and  treating  them  as  if  they  were  outside  oil 
nature’s  order  altogether  ? | 

I hope  that  the  course  of  these  lectures  will  confirml 
us  in  this  supposition.  As  regards  the  psychopathic  ori-| 
gin  of  so  many  religious  phenomena,  that  would  not  be 

^ I may  refer  to  a criticism  of  the  insanity  theory  of  genius  in  the  Psycho! 
iogical  Review,  ii.  287  (189£\ 


RELIGION  AND  NEUROLOGY 


25 


in  the  least  svirprising  or  disconcerting,  even  were  such 
phenomena  certified  from  on  high  to  be  the  most  pre> 
cions  of  human  experiences.  No  one  organism  can 
possibly  yield  to  its  owner  the  whole  body  of  truth. 
Few  of  us  are  not  in  some  way  infirm,  or  even  diseased ; 
and  our  very  infirmities  help  us  unexpectedly.  In  the 
psychopathic  temperament  we  have  the  emotionality 
which  is  the  sine  qua  non  of  moral  perception  ; we  have 
the  intensity  and  tendency  to  emphasis  which  are  the 
essence  of  practical  moral  vigor ; and  we  have  the  love 
of  metaphysics  and  mysticism  which  carry  one’s  interests 
beyond  the  surface  of  the  sensible  world.  Wbat,  then,  _Jl 
is  more  natural  than  that  this  temperament  should  intro- 
duce one  to  regions  of  religious  truth,  to  corners  of  the 
universe,  which  your  robust  Philistine  type  of  nervous 
system,  forever  offering  its  biceps  to  be  felt,  thumping 
its  breast,  and  thanking  Heaven  that  it  has  n’t  a single 
morbid  fibre  in  its  composition,  would  be  sure  to  hide 
forever  from  its  self-satisfied  possessors? 

If  there  were  such  a thing  as  inspiration  from  a higher 
1 realm,  it  might  well  be  that  the  neurotic  temperament 
iwould  furnish  the  chief  condition  of  the  requisite  recep- 
Itivity.  And  having  said  thus  much,  I think  that  I may 
[let  the  matter  of  religion  and  neuroticism  drop. 

The  mass  of  collateral  phenomena,  morbid  or  healthy, 
with  which  the  various  religious  phenomena  must  be 
compared  in  order  to  imderstand  them  better,  forms 
[wbat  in  tbe  slang  of  pedagogics  is  termed  ‘tbe  apper- 
iceiving  mass  ’ by  which  we  comprehend  them.  The 
lonly  novelty  that  I can  imagine  this  course  of  lectures 
[to  possess  lies  in  the  breadth  of  tbe  apperceiving  mass. 
jl  may  succeed  in  discussing  religious  experiences  in  a 
iwider  context  than  bas  been  usual  in  university  courses. 


LECTURE  n 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC  j 

Most  books  on  the  philosophy  of  religion  try  to 
begin  with  a precise  definition  of  what  its  essence 
consists  of.  Some  of  these  would-be  definitions  may  pos-j 
sibly  come  before  us  in  later  portions  of  this  course,  and 
[ shall  not  be  pedantic  enough  to  enumerate  any  of  them 
to  you  now.  Meanwhile  the  very  fact  that  they  are  so 
many  and  so  different  from  one  another  is  enough  to' 
prove  that  the  word  ‘ religion  ’ cannot  stand  for  any  single 
principle  or  essence,  but  is  rather  a collective  name.  The 
theorizing  mind  tends  always  to  the  over-simplification  of 
its  materials.  This  is  the  root  of  all  that  absolutism  and! 
one-sided  dogmatism  by  which  both  philosophy  and  reli- 
gion have  been  infested.  Let  us  not  fall  immediately  into 
a one-sided  view  of  oiir  subject,  but  let  us  rather  admit 
freely  at  the  outset  that  we  may  very  likely  find  no  one 
essence,  but  many  characters  which  may  alternately  be 
equally  important  in  religion.  If  we  should  inquire  forj 
the  essence  of  ‘ government,’  for  example,  one  man  might 
teU  us  it  was  authority,  another  submission,  another 
poHce,  another  an  army,  another  an  assembly,  another 
a system  of  laws ; yet  all  the  while  it  would  be  true 
that  no  concrete  government  can  exist  without  all  these 
things,  one  of  which  is  more  important  at  one  moment 
and  others  at  another. -v-The  man  who  knows  govern- 
ments most  completely  is  he  who  troubles  himself  least 
about  a definition  which  shall  give  their  essence.  Enjoy-j 
ing  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  their  particularities 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


27 


to  turn,  he  would  naturally  regard  an  abstract  conception 
in  which  these  were  unified  as  a thing  more  misleading 
than  enlightening.  And  why  may  not  religion  be  a con- 
ception equally  complex  ? ^ 

Consider  also  the  ‘ religious  sentiment ' which  we  see 
referred  to  in  so  many  books,  as  if  it  were  a single  sort 
of  mental  entity. 

In  the  psychologies  and  in  the  philosophies  of  religion, 
we  find  the  authors  attempting  to  specify  just  what  en- 
tity it  is.  One  man  allies  it  to  the  feeling  of  dependence ; 
one  makes  it  a derivative  from  fear  ; others  connect  it  with 
the  sexual  life  ; others  still  identify  it  with  the  feeling  of 
the  infinite  ; and  so  on.  Such  different  ways  of  conceiv- 
ing it  ought  of  themselves  to  arouse  doubt  as  to  whether 
jit  possibly  can  be  one  specific  thing  ; and  the  moment  we 
iare  willing  to  treat  the  term  ‘ religious  sentiment  ’ as  a 
icoUective  name  for  the  many  sentiments  which  religious 
iobjects  may  arouse  in  alternation,  we  see  that  it  probably 
icontains  nothing  whatever  of  a psychologically  specific 
nature.  There  is  religious  fear,  religious  love,  religious 
jawe,  religious  joy,  and  so  forth.  But  rehgious  love  is 
pnly  man’s  natural  emotion  of_love  directed  to  a religious 
object;  religious  fear  is  only  the  ordinary  fear  of  com- 
aaerce,  so  to  speak,  the  common  quaking  of  the  human 
breast,  in  so  far  as  the  notion  of  divine  retribution  may 
irouse  it ; rehgious  awe  is  the  same  organic  thrill  which 
ive  feel  in  a forest  at  twilight,  or  in  a mountain  gorge  ; 
only  this  time  it  comes  over  us  at  the  thought  of  our 
supernatural  relations;  and  similarly  of  all  the  various 
sentiments  which  may  be  called  into  play  in  the  lives  of 

* I can  do  no  better  here  than  refer  my  readers  to  the  extended  and  ad- 
nirable  remarks  on  the  futility  of  all  these  definitions  of  religion,  in  an 
.rticle  hy  Professor  Leuba,  published  in  the  Monist  for  January,  1901,  after 
ny  own  text  was  written. 


28 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


religious  persons.  As  concrete  states  of  mind,  made  up 
of  a feeling  plus  a specific  sort  of  object,  religious  emo- 
tions of  course  are  psychic  entities  distinguishable  from 
other  concrete  emotions ; but  there  is  no  ground  for 
—asguming  a simple  abstract  ^religious  emotion’  to  exist 
as  a distinct  elementary  mental  affection  by  itself,  present 
in  every  rehgious  experience  without  exception. 

As  there  thus  seems  to  be  no  one  elementary  religious 
emotion,  but  only  a common  storehouse  of  emotions  upon 
wliich  religious  objects  may  draw,  so  there  might  con- 
ceivably also  prove  to  be  no  one  specific  and  essential 
kind  of  religious  object,  and  no  one  specific  and  essential 
kind  of  religious  act. 

The  field  of  religion  being  as  wide  as  this,  it  is  mani- 
festly impossible  that  I should  pretend  to  cover  it.  My 
lectures  must  be  limited  to  a fraction  of  the  subject. 
And,  although  it  would  indeed  be  foolish  to  set  up  an 
abstract  definition  of  religion’s  essence,  and  then  proceed 
to  defend  that  definition  against  all  comers,  yet  this  need 
not  prevent  me  from  taking  my  own  narrow  view  of  what 
rehgion  shall  consist  in  for  the  purpose  of  these  lectures, 
or,  out  of  the  many  meanings  of  the  word,  from  choos- 
ing the  one  meaning  in  which  I wish  to  interest  you  par- 
ticularly, and  proclaiming  arbitrarily  that  when  I say 
‘religion’  I mean  that.  This,  in  fact,  is  what  I must  do, 
and  I will  now  prehminarily  seek  to  mark  out  the  field  I 
choose. 

One  way  to  mark  it  out  easily  is  to  say  what  aspects 
of  the  subject  we  leave  out.  At  the  outset  we  are  struck 
by  one  great  partition  which  divides  the  religious  field.. 
On  the  one  side  of  it  lies  institutional,  on  the  other  per-, 
sonal  religion.  As  M.  P.  Sabatier  says,  one  branch  ol 
religion  keeps  the  divinity,  another  keeps  man  most  iij 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


31 


I dew-  Worship  and  sacrifice,  procedures  for  workin^V  in» 
' the  dispositions  of  the  deity,  theology  and  ceremony  an*  ’ 
.ecclesiastical  organization,  are  the  essentials  of  religion 
i in  the  institutional  branch.  W ere  we  to  limit  our  view 
to  it,  we  should  have  to  define  religion  as  an  external 
art,  the  art  of  winning  the  favor  of  the  gods.  In  the 
more  personal  branch  of  religion  it  is  on  the  contrary  the 
inner  dispositions  of  man  himself  which  form  the  centre 
of  interest,  his  conscience,  his  deserts,  his  helplessness, 

! his  incompleteness.  And  although  the  favor  of  the  God, 
i as  forfeited  or  gained,  is  still  an  essential  feature  of  the 
story,  and  theology  plays  a vital  part  therein,  yet  the  acts 
to  which  this  sort  of  religion  prompts  are  personal  not 
ritual  acts,  the  individual  transacts  the  business  by  him- 
iself  alone,  and  the  ecclesiastical  organization,  with  its 
i priests  and  sacraments  and  other  go-betweens,  sinks  to 
an  altogether  secondary  place.  The  relation  goes  direct 
from  heart  to  heart,  from  soul  to  soul,  between  man  and 
his  maker. 

Now  in  these  lectures  I propose  to  ignore  the  institu- 
tional branch  entirely,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ecclesiastical 
organization,  to  consider  as  little  as  possible  the  system- 
I atic  theology  and  the  ideas  about  the  gods  themselves, 
and  to  confine  myself  as  far  as  I can  to  personal  religion 
pure  and  simple.  To  some  of  you  personal  religion, 
thus  nakedly  considered,  will  no  doubt  seem  too  incom- 
plete a thing  to  wear  the  general  name.  “ It  is  a part 
of  religion,”  you  wiU  say,  “ but  only  its  unorganized 
I rudiment ; if  we  are  to  name  it  by  itself,  we  had  better 
call  it  man’s  conscience  or  morality  than  his  religion. 
The  name  ^ religion  ’ should  be  reserved  for  the  fully 
1 organized  system  of  feeling,  thought,  and  institution, 

I for  the  Church,  in  short,  of  which  this  personal  religion 
I »o  called,  is  but  a fractional  element.” 


28 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


reii^Jut  if  you  say  this,  it  will  only  show  the  more  plainly 
.ow  much  the  question  of  definition  tends  to  become 
a dispute  about  names.  Rather  than  prolong  such  a 
dispute,  I am  wilhng  to  accept  almost  any  name  for  the 
personal  religion  of  which  I propose  to  treat.  Call  it 
conscience  or  morality,  if  you  yourselves  prefer,  and  not 
religion  — under  either  name  it  will  be  equally  worthy  of 
our  study.  As  for  myself,  I think  it  will  prove  to  con- 
tain some  elements  which  morality  pure  and  simple  does 
not  contain,  and  these  elements  I shall  soon  seek  to  point 
out ; so  I will  myself  continue  to  apply  the  word  ‘ reli- 
gion ’ to  it ; and  in  the  last  lecture  of  all,  I will  bring  in 
the  theologies  and  the  ecclesiasticisms,  and  say  something 
of  its  relation  to  them. 

In  one  sense  at  least  the  personal  religion  will  prove 
itself  more  fundamental  than  either  theology  or  ecclesias- 
ticism.  Churches,  when  once  estabhshed,  five  at  second- 
hand upon  tradition  ; but  founders  of  every  church 
owed  their  power  originally  to  the  fact  of  their  direct 
personal  communion  with  the  divine.  Not  only  the 
superhuman  founders,  the  Christ,  the  Buddha,  Mahomet, 
but  all  the  originators  of  Christian  sects  have  been  in 
this  case  ; — so  personal  religion  should  still  seem  the 
primordial  thing,  even  to  those  who  continue  to  esteem 
it  incomplete. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  other  things  in  religion  chrono- 
logically more  primordial  than  personal  devoutness  in  the 
moral  sense.  Fetishism  and  magic  seem  to  have  preceded 
inward  piety  historically  — at  least  our  records  of  inward 
piety  do  not  reach  back  so  far.  And  if  fetishism  and 
magic  be  regarded  as  stages  of  religion,  one  may  say 
that  personal  religion  in  the  inward  sense  and  the  genu- 
inely spiritual  ecclesiasticisms,  which,  it  founds  are  phe- 
nomena of  secondary  or  evei^  tertiary ^order.  But,  quite 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


31 


apart  from  the  fact  that  many  anthropologists  — for  in* 
stance,  Jevons  and  Frazer  — expressly  oppose  ‘ religion  ’ 
and  ‘ magic  ’ to  each  other,  it  is  certain  that  the  whole 
system  of  thought  which  leads  to  magic,  fetishism,  and 
the  lower  superstitions  may  just  as  well  be  called  primi- 
tive science  as  called  primitive  religion.  The  question 
thus  becomes  a verbal  one  again ; and  our  knowledge  of 
all  these  early  stages  of  thought  and  feeling  is  in  any 
case  so  conjectural  and  imperfect  that  farther  discussion 
would  not  be  worth  while. 

Religion,  therefore,  as  I now  ask  you  arbitrarily  to 
take  it,  shall  mean  for  us  the  feelings,  acts,  and  experi- 
ences of  individual  men  in  their  solitude,  so  far  as  they 
apprehend  themselves  to  stand  in  relation  to  whatever 
they  may  consider  the  divine.  Since  the  relation  may 
be  either  moral,  physical,  or  ritual,  it  is  evident  that  out 
of  religion  in  the  sense  in  which  we  take  it,  theologies, 
philosophies,  and  ecclesiastical  organizations  may  second- 
arily grow.  In  these  lectures,  however,  as  I have  already 
said,  the  immediate  personal  experiences  will  amply  fill 
our  time,  and  we  shall  hardly  consider  theology  or  eccle* 
siasticism  at  all. 

We  escape  much  controversial  matter  by  this  arbitrary 
definition  of  our  field.  But,  still,  a chance  of  controversy 
comes  up  over  the  word  ‘ divine,’  if  we  take  it  in  the 
definition  in  too  narrow  a sense.  There  are  systems  of 
thought  which  the  world  usually  calls  religious,  and  yet 
which  do  not  positively  assume  a God.  Buddhism  is 
in  this  case.  Popularly,  of  course,  the  Buddha  himself 
stands  in  place  of  a God ; but  in  strictness  the  Buddhis- 
tic system  is  atheistic.  Modern  transcendental  idealism, 
Emersonianism,  for  instance,  also  seems  to  let  God  evap- 
orate into  abstract  Ideality.  Not  a deity  in  concreto, 
not  a superhuman  person,  but  the  immanent  divinity  in 


32 


THE  Varieties  of  religious  experience 


things,  the  essentially  spiritual  structure  of  the  universes 
is  the  object  of  the  transcendentahst  cult.  In  that  ad- 
dress to  the  graduating  class  at  Divinity  College  in  1838 
which  made  Emerson  famous,  the  frank  expression  of 
this  worship  of  mere  abstract  laws  was  what  made  the 
scandal  of  the  performance. 

“ These  laws,”  said  the  speaker,  “ execute  themselves.  They 
are  out  of  time,  out  of  space,  and  not  subject  to  circumstance  : 
Thus,  in  the  soul  of  man  there  is  a justice  whose  retributions 
are  instant  and  entire.  He  who  does  a good  deed  is  instantly 
ennobled.  He  who  does  a mean  deed  is  by  the  action  itself 
contracted.  He  who  puts  off  impurity  thereby  puts  on  purity. 
If  a man  is  at  heart  just,  then  in  so  far  is  he  God ; the  safety 
of  God,  the  immortality  of  God,  the  majesty  of  God,  do  enter 
into  that  man  with  justice.  If  a man  dissemble,  deceive,  he 
deceives  himself,  and  goes  out  of  acquaintance  with  his  own 
being.  Character  is  always  known.  Thefts  never  enrich ; 
alms  never  impoverish ; murder  will  speak  out  of  stone  walls. 
The  least  admixture  of  a lie  — for  example,  the  taint  of  vanity, 
any  attempt  to  make  a good  impression,  a favorable  appearance 
— will  instantly  vitiate  the  effect.  But  speak  the  truth,  and 
all  things  alive  or  brute  are  vouchers,  and  the  very  roots  of  the 
grass  underground  there  do  seem  to  stir  and  move  to  bear  your 
witness.  For  all  things  proceed  out  of  the  same  spirit,  which 
is  differently  named  love,  justice,  temperance,  in  its  different 
applications,  just  as  the  ocean  receives  different  names  on  the 
several  shores  which  it  washes.  In  so  far  as  he  roves  from 
these  ends,  a man  bereaves  himself  of  power,  of  auxiliaries. 
His  being  shrinks  ...  he  becomes  less  and  less,  a mote,  a 
point,  until  absolute  badness  is  absolute  death.  The  perception 
of  this  law  awakens  in  the  mind  a sentiment  which  we  call  the 
religious  sentiment,  and  which  makes  our  highest  happiness. 
Wonderful  is  its  power  to  charm  and  to  command.  It  is  a 
mountain  air.  It  is  the  embalmer  of  the  world.  It  makes  thij 
sky  and  the  hills  sublime,  and  the  silent  song  of  the  stars  is  it, 
It  is  the  beatitude  of  man.  It  makes  him  illimitable.  When 
he  says  ‘ I ought  ’ ; when  love  warns  him ; when  he  chooses. 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


33 


warned  from  on  high,  the  good  and  great  deed ; then,  deep 
melodies  wander  through  his  soul  from  supreme  wisdom.  Then 
he  can  worship,  and  be  enlarged  by  his  worship ; for  he  can 
never  go  behind  this  sentiment.  All  the  expressions  of  this 
sentiment  are  sacred  and  permanent  in  proportion  to  their 
purity.  [They]  affect  us  more  than  all  other  compositions. 
The  sentences  of  the  olden  time,  which  ejaculate  this  piety,  are 
still  fresh  and  fragrant.  And  the  unique  impression  of  Jesus 
upon  mankind,  whose  name  is  not  so  much  written  as  ploughed 
into  the  history  of  this  world,  is  proof  of  the  subtle  virtue  of 
this  infusion.”  ^ 

^Such  is  the  Emersonian  religion.  The  universe  has  a 
divine  soul  of  order,  which  soul  is  moral,  being  also  the 
soul  within  the  soul  of  man.  But  whether  this  soul  of  the 
universe  be  a mere  quality  like  the  eye’s  brilliancy  or 
the  skin’s  softness,  or  whether  it  be  a self-conscious  life 
like  the  eye’s  seeing  or  the  skin’s  feeling,  is  a decision 
that  never  unmistakably  appears  in  Emerson’s  pages. 
It  quivers  on  the  boundary  of  these  things,  sometimes 
leaning  one  way,  sometimes  the  other,  to  suit  the  literary 
rather  than  the  philosophic  need.  Whatever  it  is,  though, 
it  is  active.  As  much  as  if  it  were  a God,  we  can  trust 
it  to  protect  aU  ideal  interests  and  keep  the  world’s  bal- 
ance straight.  The  sentences  in  which  Emerson,  to  the 
very  end,  gave  utterance  to  this  faith  are  as  fine  as  any- 
thing in  literature  : “ If  you  love  and  serve  men,  you 
cannot  by  any  hiding  or  stratagem  escape  the  remunera- 
tion. Secret  retributions  are  always  restoring  the  level, 
when  disturbed,  of  the  divine  justice.  It  is  impossible 
to  tilt  the  beam.  All  the  tyrants  and  proprietors  and 
monopolists  of  the  world  in  vain  set  their  shoulders  tb 
heave  the  bar.  Settles  forevermore  the  ponderous  equa- 
tor to  its  line,  and  man  and  mote,  and  star  and  sun,  must 
range  to  it,  or  be  pulverized  by  the  recoil.”  ^ 

^ Miscellanies,  1868,  p.  120  (abridged). 

“ Lectures  and  Biographical  Sketches,  1868,  p.  186. 


34  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Now  it  would  be  too  absurd  to  say  that  the  inner 
experiences  that  underlie  such  expressions  of  faith  as 
this  and  impel  the  writer  to  their  utterance  are  quite 
unworthy  to  be  called  religious  experiences.  The  sort  of 
appeal  that  Emersonian  optimism,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
Buddhistic  pessimism,  on  the  other,  make  to  the  individ- 
ual and  the  sort  of  response  which  he  makes  to  them  in 
his  life  are  in  fact  indistinguishable  from,  and  in  many 
respects  identical  with,  the  best  Christian  appeal  and 
response.  We  must  therefore,  from  the  experiential 
point  of  view,  call  these  godless  or  quasi-godless  creeds 
‘ religions  ’ ; and  accordingly  when  in  our  definition  of 
religion  we  speak  of  the  individual’s  relation  to  ‘ what 
he  considers  the  divine,’  we  must  interpret  the  term 
‘ divine  ’ very  broadly,  as  denoting  any  object  that  is 
godlike,  whether  it  be  a concrete  deity  or  not. 

But  the  term  '^godlike,’  if  thus  treated  as  a floating 
general  quality,  becomes  exceedingly  vague,  for  many 
gods  have  flourished  in  religious  history,  and  their  attri- 
butes have  been  discrepant  enough.  What  then  is  that 
essentially  godlike  quality  — be  it  embodied  in  a con- 
crete deity  or  not  — our  relation  to  which  determines  our 
character  as  religious  men  ? It  will  repay  us  to  seek 
some  answer  to  this  question  before  we  proceed  farther. 

For  one  thing,  gods  are  conceived  to  be  first  things 
in  the  way  of  being  and  power.  They  overarch  and 
envelop,  and  from  them  there  is  no  escape.  What  relates 
to  them  is  the  first  and  last  word  in  the  way  of  truth. 
Whatever  then  were  most  primal  and  enveloping  and 
deeply  true  might  at  this  rate  be  treated  as  godhke, 
and  a man’s  religion  might  thus  be  identified  with  his 
attitude,  whatever  it  might  be,  towards  what  he  felt  to 
be  the  primal  truth. 


CIECUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


35 


Such  a definition  as  this  would  in  a way  be  defensible. 
Religion,  whatever  it  is,  is  a man’s  total  reaction  upon 
Life,  so  why  not  say  that  any  total  reaction  upon  life  is  a 
religion?  Total  reactions  are  different  from  casual  reac- 
tions,  and  total  attitudes  are  different  from  usual  or  pro- 
fessional attitudes.  To  get  at  them  you  must  go  behind 
the  foreground  of  existence  and  reach  down  to  that  curi- 
ous sense  of  the  whole  residual  cosmos  as  an  everlasting 
presence,  intimate  or  alien,  terrible  or  amusing,  lovable 
or  odious,  which  in  some  degree  every  one  possesses. 
This  sense  of  the  world’s  presence,  appealing  as  it  does 
to  our  peculiar  individual  temperament,  makes  us  either 
strenuous  or  careless,  devout  or  blasphemous,  gloomy  or 
exultant,  about  life  at  large  ; and  our  reaction,  involun- 
tary and  inarticulate  and  often  half  unconscious  as  it 
is,  is  the  completest  of  all  our  answers  to  the  question, 
“ What  is  the  character  of  this  universe  in  which  we 
dwell  ? ” It  expresses  our  individual  sense  of  it  in  the 
most  definite  way.  Why  then  not  call  these  reactions 
our  religion,  no  matter  what  specific  character  they  may 
have  ? Non-religious  as  some  of  these  reactions  may  be, 
in  one  sense  of  the  word  ‘ religious,’  they  yet  belong  to 
the  general  sphere  of  the  religious  life,  and  so  should 
generically  be  classed  as  religious  reactions.  “He  be- 
lieves in  No-God,  and  he  worships  him,”  said  a colleague 
of  mine  of  a student  who  was  manifesting  a fine  atheistic 
ardor ; and  the  more  fervent  opponents  of  Christian  doc- 
trine have  often  enough  shown  a temper  which,  psycho- 
logically considered,  is  indistinguishable  from  religious 
zeal. 

But  so  very  broad  a use  of  the  word  ‘ religion  ’ would 
be  inconvenient,  however  defensible  it  might  remain  on 
logical  grounds.  There  are  trifling,  sneering  attitudes 
even  towards  the  whole  of  life ; and  in  some  men  these 


36 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


attitudes  are  final  and  systematic.  It  would  strain  the 
ordinary  use  of  language  too  much  to  call  such  attitudes 
religious,  even  though,  from  the  point  of  view  of  an 
unbiased  critical  philosophy,  they  might  conceivably  be 
perfectly  reasonable  ways  of  looking  upon  life.  V oltaire, 
for  example,  writes  thus  to  a friend,  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enty-three : “ As  for  myself,”  he  says,  “weak  as  I am,  I 
carry  on  the  war  to  the  last  moment,  I get  a hundred 
pike-thrusts,  I return  two  hundred,  and  I laugh.  I see 
near  my  door  Geneva  on  fire  with  quarrels  over  nothing, 
and  I laugh  again  ; and,  thank  God,  I can  look  upon 
the  world  as  a farce  even  when  it  becomes  as  tragic  as 
it  sometimes  does.  All  comes  out  even  at  the  end  of 
the  day,  and  all  comes  out  still  more  even  when  all  the 
days  are  over.” 

Much  as  we  may  admire  such  a robust  old  gamecock 
spirit  in  a valetudinarian,  to  call  it  a religious  spirit 
would  be  odd.  Yet  it  is  for  the  moment  Voltaire’s  reac- 
tion on  the  whole  of  life.  Je  m’en  fiche  is  the  vulgar 
French  equivalent  for  our  English  ejaculation  ‘ Who 
cares  ? ’ And  the  happy  term  je  m' en  fichisme  recently 
has  been  invented  to  designate  the  systematic  determi- 
nation not  to  take  anything  in  life  too  solemnly.  ‘ All 
is  vanity  ’ is  the  relieving  word  in  all  difficult  crises  for 
this  mode  of  thought,  which  that  exquisite  literary 
genius  Renan  took  pleasure,  in  his  later  days  of  sweet 
decay,  in  putting  into  coquettishly  sacrilegious  forms 
which  remain  to  us  as  excellent  expressions  of  the  ‘ all 
is  vanity  ’ state  of  mind.  Take  the  following  passage, 
for  example,  — we  must  hold  to  duty,  even  against  the 
evidence,  Renan  says,  — but  he  then  goes  on  : — 

“ There  are  many  chances  that  the  world  may  be  nothing  but 
a fairy  pantomime  of  which  no  God  has  care.  W e must  there- 
fore arrange  ourselves  so  that  on  neither  hypothesis  we  shall  be 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


37 


completely  wrong.  We  must  listen  to  the  superior  voices,  but 
in  such  a way  that  if  the  second  hypothesis  were  true  we  should 
not  have  been  too  completely  duped.  If  in  effect  the  world  be 
not  a serious  thing,  it  is  the  dogmatic  people  who  will  be  the 
shallow  ones,  and  the  worldly  minded  whom  the  theologians 
now  call  frivolous  will  be  those  who  are  really  wise. 

“ In  utrumque  paratus^  then.  Be  ready  for  anything  — that 
perhaps  is  wisdom.  Give  ourselves  up,  according  to  the  hour, 
to  confidence,  to  skepticism,  to  optimism,  to  irony,  and  we  may 
be  sure  that  at  certain  moments  at  least  we  shall  be  with  the 
truth.  . . . Good-humor  is  a philosophic  state  of  mind ; it 
seems  to  say  to  Nature  that  we  take  her  no  more  seriously  than 
she  takes  us.  I maintain  that  one  should  always  talk  of  philo- 
sophy with  a smile.  We  owe  it  to  the  Eternal  to  be  virtuous; 
but  we  have  the  right  to  add  to  this  tribute  our  irony  as  a sort 
of  personal  reprisal.  In  this  way  we  return  to  the  right  quarter 
jest  for  jest ; we  play  the  trick  that  has  been  played  on  us. 
Saint  Augustine’s  phrase  : Lord,  if  loe  are  deceived,  it  is  by 
thee  f remains  a fine  one,  well  suited  to  our  modern  feeling. 
Only  we  wish  the  Eternal  to  know  that  if  we  accept  the  fraud, 
we  accept  it  knowingly  and  willingly.  We  are  resigned  in 
advance  to  losing  the  interest  on  our  investments  of  virtue,  but 
we  wish  not  to  appear  ridiculous  by  having  counted  on  them 
too  securely.”  ^ 

Surely  all  the  usual  associations  of  the  word  ‘ religion  ’ 
would  have  to  be  stripped  away  if  such  a systematic 
parti  pris  of  irony  were  also  to  be  denoted  by  the  name. 
For  common  men  ‘ religion,’  whatever  more  special  mean- 
ings it  may  have,  signifies  always  a serious  state  of  mind. 
If  any  one  phrase  could  gather  its  universal  message, 
that  phrase  would  be,  ‘ All  is  not  vanity  in  this  Universe, 
whatever  the  appearances  may  suggest.’  If  it  can  stop 
anything,  religion  as  commonly  apprehended  can  stop  just 
such  chaffing  talk  as  Renan’s.  It  favors  gravity,  not 
pertness ; it  says  ‘ hush  ’ to  all  vain  chatter  and  smart  wit. 

1 Feuilles  detach^es,  pp.  394-398  (abridged). 


38  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

But  if  hostile  to  light  irony,  religion  is  equally  hostile, 
to  heavy  grumbling  and  complaint.  The  world  appears 
tragic  enough  in  some  religions,  but  the  tragedy  is  real- 
ized as  purging,  and  a way  of  deliverance  is  held  to  exist. 
We  shall  see  enough  of  the  religious  melancholy  in  a 
future  lecture ; but  melancholy,  according  to  our  ordi- 
nary use  of  language,  forfeits  all  title  to  be  called  reli- 
gious when,  in  Marcus  Aurelius’s  racy  words,  the  sufFerer 
simply  lies  kicking  and  screaming  after  the  fashion  of 
a sacrificed  pig.  The  mood  of  a Schopenhauer  or  a 
Nietzsche,  — and  in  a less  degree  one  may  sometimes  say 
the  same  of  our  own  sad  Carlyle,  — though  often  an 
ennobling  sadness,  is  almost  as  often  only  peevishness 
running  away  with  the  bit  between  its  teeth.  The  sal- 
lies of  the  two  German  authors  remind  one,  half  the 
time,  of  the  sick  shriekings  of  two  dying  rats.  They 
lack  the  purgatorial  note  which  religious  sadness  gives 
forth. 

There  must  be  something  solemn,  serious,  and  tender 
about  any  attitude  which  we  denominate  religious.  If  glad, 
it  must  not  grin  or  snicker ; if  sad,  it  must  not  scream  or 
curse.  It  is  precisely  as  being  solemn  experiences  that  I 
wish  to  interest  you  in  religious  experiences.  So  I pro- 
pose — arbitrarily  again,  if  you  please  — to  narrow  our 
definition  once  more  by  saying  that  the  word  ‘ divine,’ 
as  employed  therein,  shaU  mean  for  us  not  merely  the 
primal  and  enveloping  and  real,  for  that  meaning  if  taken 
without  restriction  might  well  prove  too  broad.  The 
divine  shall  mean  for  us  only  such  a primal  reality  as 
the  individual  feels  impelled  to  respond  to  solemnly  and 
gravely,  and  neither  by  a curse  nor  a jest. 

But  solemnity,  and  gravity,  and  all  such  emotional  at- 
tributes, admit  of  various  shades ; and,  do  what  we  will 
with  our  defining,  the  truth  must  at  last  be  confronted 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


39 


that  we  are  dealing  with  a field  of  experience  where  there 
is  not  a single  conception  that  can  be  sharply  drawn. 
The  pretension,  under  such  conditions,  to  be  rigorously 
^ scientific  ’ or  ‘ exact  ’ in  our  terms  would  only  stamp 
us  as  lacking  in  understanding  of  our  task.  Things  are 
more  or  less  divine,  states  of  mind  are  more  or  less  reli- 
gious, reactions  are  more  or  less  total,  but  the  bounda- 
ries are  always  misty,  and  it  is  everywhere  a question 
of  amount  and  degree.  Nevertheless,  at  their  extreme  of 
development,  there  can  never  be  any  question  as  to  what 
experiences  are  rehgious.  The  divinity  of  the  object 
and  the  solemnity  of  the  reaction  are  too  well  marked 
for  doubt.  Hesitation  as  to  whether  a state  of  mind  is 
^ religious,’  or  ‘ irreligious,’  or  ‘ moral,’  or  ‘ philosophi- 
cal,’ is  only  hkely  to  arise  when  the  state  of  mind  is 
weakly  characterized,  but  in  that  case  it  will  be  hardly 
worthy  of  our  study  at  aU.  With  states  that  can  only 
by  courtesy  be  called  religious  we  need  have  nothing  to 
do,  our  only  profitable  business  being  with  what  nobody 
can  possibly  feel  tempted  to  call  anything  else.  I said 
in  my  former  lecture  that  we  learn  most  about  a thing 
when  we  view  it  under  a microscope,  as  it  were,  or  in  its 
most  exaggerated  form.  This  is  as  true  of  religious 
phenomena  as  of  any  other  kind  of  fact.  The  only  cases 
likely  to  be  profitable  enough  to  repay  our  attention  will 
therefore  be  cases  where  the  religious  spirit  is  unmistak- 
able and  extreme.  Its  fainter  manifestations  we  may 
tranquilly  pass  by.  Here,  for  example,  is  the  total  reac- 
tion upon  life  of  Frederick  Locker  Lampson,  whose  auto- 
biography, entitled  ‘ Confidences,’  proves  him  to  have 
been  a most  amiable  man. 

“ I am  so  far  resigned  to  my  lot  that  I feel  small  pain  at  the 
thought  of  having  to  part  from  what  has  been  called  the  plear 
sant  habit  of  existence,  the  sweet  fable  of  life.  I would  not 


40 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


care  to  live  my  wasted  life  over  again,  and  so  to  prolong  my 
span.  Strange  to  say,  I have  but  little  wish  to  be  younger.  I 
submit  with  a chill  at  my  heart.  I humbly  submit  because  it 
is  the  Divine  Will,  and  my  appointed  destiny.  I dread  the  in- 
crease of  infirmities  that  will  make  me  a burden  to  those  around 
me,  those  dear  to  me.  No ! let  me  slip  away  as  quietly  and 
comfortably  as  I can.  Let  the  end  come,  if  peace  come  with  it. 

“ I do  not  know  that  there  is  a great  deal  to  be  said  for  this 
world,  or  our  sojourn  here  upon  it ; but  it  has  pleased  God  so 
to  place  us,  and  it  must  please  me  also.  I ask  you,  what  is 
human  life  ? Is  not  it  a maimed  happiness  — care  and  weari- 
ness, weariness  and  care,  with  the  baseless  expectation,  the 
strange  cozenage  of  a brighter  to-morrow  ? At  best  it  is  but  a 
froward  child,  that  must  be  played  with  and  humored,  to  keep 
it  quiet  till  it  falls  asleep,  and  then  the  care  is  over.”  ^ 

This  is  a complex,  a tender,  a submissive,  and  a grace- 
ful state  of  mind.  For  myself,  I should  have  no  objec- 
tion to  calling  it  on  the  whole  a religious  state  of  mind, 
although  I dare  say  that  to  many  of  you  it  may  seem  too 
listless  and  half-hearted  to  merit  so  good  a name.  But 
what  matters  it  in  the  end  whether  we  call  such  a state 
of  mind  religious  or  not  ? It  is  too  insignificant  for  our 
instruction  in  any  case  ; and  its  very  possessor  wrote  it 
down  in  terms  which  he  would  not  have  used  unless  he 
had  been  thinking  of  more  energetically  religious  moods  in 
others,  with  which  he  found  himself  unable  to  compete. 
It  is  with  these  more  energetic  states  that  our  sole  busi- 
ness lies,  and  we  can  perfectly  well  afford  to  let  the  minor 
notes  and  the  uncertain  border  go. 

It  was  the  extremer  cases  that  I had  in  mind  a little 
while  ago  when  I said  that  personal  religion,  even  with- 
out theology  or  ritual,  would  prove  to  embody  some  ele- 
ments that  morality  pure  and  simple  does  not  contain. 
You  may  remember  that  I promised  shortly  to  point  out 
' Op.  cit.,  pp.  314,  313 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


41 


what  those  elements  were.  In  a general  way  I can  now 
say  what  I had  in  mind. 

“ I accept  the  universe  ” is  reported  to  have  been  a 
favorite  utterance  of  our  New  England  transcendental- 
ist,  Margaret  Fuller ; and  when  some  one  repeated  this 
phrase  to  Thomas  Carlyle,  his  sardonic  comment  is  said 
to  have  been  : “ Gad  ! she ’d  better  ! ” At  bottom  the 
whole  concern  of  both  morality  and  religion  is  with  the 
manner  of  our  acceptance  of  the  universe.  Do  we  ac- 
cept it  only  in  part  and  grudgingly,  or  heartily  and  alto- 
gether ? Shall  our  protests  against  certain  things  in  it 
be  radical  and  unforgiving,  or  shall  we  think  that,  even 
with  evil,  there  are  ways  of  living  that  must  lead  to 
good?  If  we  accept  the  whole,  shall  we  do  so  as  if 
stunned  into  submission,  — as  Carlyle  would  have  us  — 
“ Gad  ! we ’d  better  ! ” — or  shall  we  do  so  with  enthu- 
siastic assent  ? Morality  pure  and  simple  accepts  the 
law  of  the  whole  which  it  finds  reigning,  so  far  as  to 
acknowledge  and  obey  it,  but  it  may  obey  it  with  the 
heaviest  and  coldest  heart,  and  never  cease  to  feel  it  as 
a yoke.  But  for  religion,  in  its  strong  and  fully  devel- 
oped manifestations,  the  service  of  the  highest  never  is 
felt  as  a yoke.  Dull  submission  is  left  far  behind,  and  a 
mood  of  welcome,  which  may  fill  any  place  on  the  scale 
between  cheerful  serenity  and  enthusiastic  gladness,  has 
taken  its  place. 

It  makes  a tremendous  emotional  and  practical  differ- 
ence to  one  whether  one  accept  the  universe  in  the  drab 
discolored  way  of  stoic  resignation  to  necessity,  or  with 
the  passionate  happiness  of  Christian  saints.  The  differ- 
ence is  as  great  as  that  between  passivity  and  activity, 
as  that  between  the  defensive  and  the  aggressive  mood. 
Gradual  as  are  the  steps  by  which  an  individual  may 


42 


THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


grow  from  one  state  into  the  other,  many  as  are  the  in= 
termediate  stages  which  different  individuals  represent, 
yet  when  you  place  the  typical  extremes  beside  each  other 
for  comparison,  you  feel  that  two  discontinuous  psycho- 
logical universes  confront  you,  and  that  in  passing  from 
one  to  the  other  a ‘ critical  point  ’ has  been  overcome. 

If  we  compare  stoic  with  Christian  ejaculations  we  see 
much  more  than  a difference  of  doctrine  ; rather  is  it  a 
difference  of  emotional  mood  that  parts  them.  When 
Marcus  Aui’elius  reflects  on  the  eternal  reason  that  has 
ordered  things,  there  is  a frosty  chill  about  his  words 
which  you  rarely  find  in  a Jewish,  and  never  in  a Chris- 
tian piece  of  religious  writing.  The  universe  is  ‘ ac- 
cepted ’ by  all  these  writers  ; but  how  devoid  of  passion 
or  exultation  the  spirit  of  the  Roman  Emperor  is  ! Com- 
pare his  fine  sentence  : “ If  gods  care  not  for  me  or 
my  children,  here  is  a reason  for  it,”  with  Job’s  cry : 
“ Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I trust  in  him  ! ” and  you 
immediately  see  the  difference  I mean.  The  anima 
mundi,  to  whose  disposal  of  his  own  personal  destiny 
the  Stoic  consents,  is  there  to  be  respected  and  sub- 
mitted to,  but  the  Christian  God  is  there  to  be  loved; 
and  the  difference  of  emotional  atmosphere  is  like  that 
between  an  arctic  chmate  and  the  tropics,  though  the  out- 
come in  the  way  of  accepting  actual  conditions  uncom- 
plainingly may  seem  in  abstract  terms  to  be  much  the 
same. 

“ It  is  a man’s  duty,”  says  Marcus  Aurelius,  “ to  comfort 
himself  and  wait  for  the  natural  dissolution,  and  not  to  be 
vexed,  but  to  find  refreshment  solely  in  these  thoughts  — first 
that  nothing  will  happen  to  me  which  is  not  conformable  to  the 
nature  of  the  universe ; and  secondly  that  I need  do  nothing 
contrary  to  the  God  and  deity  within  me  ; for  there  is  no  man 
who  can  compel  me  to  transgress.^  He  is  an  abscess  on  the 
1 Book  V..  ch,  X.  (abridged). 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


43 


universe  who  withdraws  and  separates  himself  from  the  reason 
of  our  common  nature,  through  being  displeased  with  the  things 
which  happen.  For  the  same  nature  produces  these,  and  has 
produced  thee  too.  And  so  accept  everything  which  happens, 
even  if  it  seem  disagreeable,  because  it  leads  to  this,  the  health 
of  the  universe  and  to  the  prosperity  and  felicity  of  Zeus.  For 
he  would  not  have  brought  on  any  man  what  he  has  brought, 
if  it  were  not  useful  for  the  whole.  The  integrity  of  the  whole 
is  mutilated  if  thou  cuttest  off  anything.  And  thou  dost  cut 
off,  as  far  as  it  is  in  thy  power,  when  thou  art  dissatisfied,  and 
in  a manner  triest  to  put  anything  out  of  the  way.”  ^ 

Compare  now  this  mood  with  that  of  the  old  Christian 
author  of  the  Theologia  Germanica  : — 

“ Where  men  are  enlightened  with  the  true  light,  they  re- 
nounce  all  desire  and  choice,  and  commit  and  commend  them- 
selves and  all  things  to  the  eternal  Goodness,  so  that  every 
enlightened  man  could  say : ‘ I would  fain  be  to  the  Eternal 
Goodness  what  his  own  hand  is  to  a man.’  Such  men  are  in 
a state  of  freedom,  because  they  have  lost  the  fear  of  pain  or 
hell,  and  the  hope  of  reward  or  heaven,  and  are  living  in  pure 
submission  to  the  eternal  Goodness,  in  the  perfect  freedom  of 
fervent  love.  When  a man  truly  perceiveth  and  considereth 
himself,  who  and  what  he  is,  and  findeth  himself  utterly  vile 
and  wicked  and  unworthy,  he  falleth  into  such  a deep  abase- 
ment that  it  seemeth  to  him  reasonable  that  all  creatures  in 
heaven  and  earth  should  rise  up  against  him.  And  therefore 
he  will  not  and  dare  not  desire  any  consolation  and  release ; 
but  he  is  willing  to  be  uuconsoled  and  unreleased ; and  he  doth 
not  grieve  over  his  sufferings,  for  they  are  right  in  his  eyes,  and 
he  hath  nothing  to  say  against  them.  This  is  what  is  meant 
by  true  repentance  for  sin  ; and  he  who  in  this  present  time 
entereth  into  this  hell,  none  may  console  him.  Now  God  hath 
not  forsaken  a man  in  this  hell,  but  He  is  laying  his  hand  upon 
him,  that  the  man  may  not  desire  nor  regard  anything  but  the 
eternal  Good  only.  And  then,  when  the  man  neither  careth 
for  nor  desireth  anything  but  the  eternal  Good  alone,  and  seek* 

1 Book  V.,  ch.  ix.  (abridged). 


44 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


eth  not  himself  nor  his  own  things,  but  the  honour  of  God  only, 
he  is  made  a partaker  of  all  manner  of  joy,  bliss,  peace,  rest, 
and  consolation,  and  so  the  man  is  henceforth  in  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  This  hell  and  this  heaven  are  two  good  safe  ways  foi 
a man,  and  happy  is  he  who  truly  findeth  them.”  ^ 

How  much  more  active  and  positive  the  impulse  of  the 
Christian  writer  to  accept  his  place  in  the  universe  is ! 
Marcus  Aurelius  agrees  to  the  scheme  — the  German 
theologian  agrees  with  it.  He  literally  abounds  in  agree- 
ment, he  runs  out  to  embrace  the  divine  decrees. 

Occasionally,  it  is  true,  the  Stoic  rises  to  something  like 
a Christian  warmth  of  sentiment,  as  in  the  often  quoted 
passage  of  Marcus  Aurelius  : — 

“ Everything  harmonizes  with  me  which  is  harmonious  to 
thee,  O Universe.  Nothing  for  me  is  too  early  nor  too  late, 
which  is  in  due  time  for  thee.  Everything  is  fruit  to  me  which 
thy  seasons  bring,  O Nature  : from  thee  are  all  things,  in  thee 
are  all  things,  to  thee  all  things  return.  The  poet  says.  Dear 
City  of  Cecrops  ; and  wilt  thou  not  say.  Dear  City  of  Zeus  ? ” ^ 

But  compare  even  as  devout  a passage  as  this  with  a 
genuine  Christian  outpouring,  and  it  seems  a little  cold. 
Turn,  for  instance,  to  the  Imitation  of  Christ : — 

“ Lord,  thou  knowest  what  is  best ; let  this  or  that  be  accord- 
ing as  thou  wilt.  Give  what  thou  wilt,  so  much  as  thou  wilt, 
when  thou  wilt.  Do  with  me  as  thou  knowest  best,  and  as 
shall  be  most  to  thine  honour.  Place  me  where  thou  wilt,  and 
freely  work  thy  will  with  me  in  all  things.  . . . When  could  it 
be  evil  when  thou  wert  near  ? I had  rather  be  poor  for  thy 
sake  than  rich  without  thee.  I choose  rather  to  be  a pilgrim 
upon  the  earth  with  thee,  than  without  thee  to  possess  heaven. 
Where  thou  art,  there  is  heaven ; and  where  thou  art  not,  be- 
hold there  death  and  hell.”  ® 

^ Chaps.  X.,  xi.  (abridged):  Wink  worth’s  translation. 

® Book  IV.,  § 23. 

® Benham’s  translation  : Book  III.,  chaps,  xv.,  lix.  Compare  Mary 
Moody  Emerson:  “ Let  me  be  a blot  on  this  fair  world,  the  obscurest,  the 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


45 


It  is  a good  rule  in  physiology,  when  we  are  studying 
the  meaning  of  an  organ,  to  ask  after  its  most  pecidiar 
and  characteristic  sort  of  performance,  and  to  seek  its 
office  in  that  one  of  its  functions  which  no  other  organ 
can  possibly  exert.  Surely  the  same  maxim  holds  good 
in  our  present  quest.  The  essence  of  religious  experi- 
ences, the  thing  by  which  we  finally  must  judge  them, 
must  be  that  element  or  quality  in  them  which  we  can 
meet  nowhere  else.  And  such  a quality  will  be  of  course 
most  prominent  and  easy  to  notice  in  those  religious 
experiences  which  are  most  one-sided,  exaggerated,  and 
intense. 

Now  when  we  compare  these  intenser  experiences  with 
the  experiences  of  tamer  minds,  so  cool  and  reasonable 
that  we  are  tempted  to  call  them  philosophical  rather 
than  religious,  we  find  a character  that  is  perfectly  dis- 
tinct. That  character,  it  seems  to  me,  should  be  regarded 
as  the  practically  important  differentia  of  religion  for 
our  purpose  ; and  just  what  it  is  can  easily  be  brought 
out  by  comparing  the  mind  of  an  abstractly  conceived 
Christian  with  that  of  a moralist  similarly  conceived. 

A life  is  manly,  stoical,  moral,  or  philosophical,  we  say, 
in  proportion  as  it  is  less  swayed  by  paltry  personal  con- 
siderations and  more  by  objective  ends  that  call  for 

' energy,  even  though  that  energy  bring  personal  loss  and 
pain.  This  is  the  good  side  of  war,  in  so  far  as  it  calls 
for  ‘ volunteers.’  And  for  morality  life  is  a war,  and 
the  service  of  the  highest  is  a sort  of  cosmic  patriotism 
which  also  calls  for  volunteers.  Even  a sick  man,  unabk 
to  be  militant  outwardly,  can  carry  on  the  moral  warfare 
He  can  willfully  turn  his  attention  away  from  his  ow> 

|i  loneliest  sufferer,  with  one  proviso,  — that  I know  it  is  His  agency.  I will 
love  Him  though  He  shed  frost  and  darkness  on  every  way  of  mine.”  R. 
W.  Emerson  : Lectures  and  Biographical  Sketches,  p.  188. 


I' 


46  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

future,  whether  in  this  world  or  the  next.  He  can  train 
himself  to  indifference  to  his  present  drawbacks  and  im- 
merse himself  in  whatever  objective  interests  still  remain 
accessible.  He  can  follow  public  news,  and  sympathize 
with  other  people’s  affairs.  He  can  cultivate  cheerful 
manners,  and  be  silent  about  his  miseries.  He  can  con- 
template whatever  ideal  aspects  of  existence  his  philo- 
sophy is  able  to  present  to  him,  and  practice  whatever 
duties,  such  as  patience,  resignation,  trust,  his  ethical 
system  requires.  Such  a man  lives  on  his  loftiest,  largest 
plane.  He  is  a high-hearted  freeman  and  no  pining 
slave.  And  yet  he  lacks  something  which  the  Christian 
par  excellence,  the  mystic  and  ascetic  saint,  for  example, 
has  in  abundant  measure,  and  which  makes  of  him  a 
human  being  of  an  altogether  different  denomination. 

The  Christian  also  spurns  the  pinched  and  mumping 
sick-room  attitude,  and  the  lives  of  saints  are  full  of  a 
kind  of  callousness  to  diseased  conditions  of  body  which 
probably  no  other  human  records  show.  But  whereas 
the  merely  moralistic  spurning  takes  an  effort  of  volition, 
the  Christian  spurning  is  the  result  of  the  excitement  of  a 
higher  kind  of  emotion,  in  the  presence  of  which  no  exer- 
tion of  volition  is  required.  The  moralist  must  hold  his 
breath  and  keep  his  muscles  tense  ; and  so  long  as  this 
athletic  attitude  is  possible  all  goes  well  — morality  suf- 
fices. But  the  athletic  attitude  tends  ever  to  break 
down,  and  it  inevitably  does  break  down  even  in  the  most 
stalwart  when  the  organism  begins  to  decay,  or  when 
morbid  fears  invade  the  mind.  To  suggest  personal  will 
and  effort  to  one  all  sickbed  o’er  with  the  sense  of  irre- 
mediable impotence  is  to  suggest  the  most  impossible  of 
things.  What  he  craves  is  to  be  consoled  in  his  very 
powerlessness,  to  feel  that  the  spirit  of  the  universe  re- 
cognizes and  secures  him,  all  decaying  and  faibng  as  he 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


47 


is.  Well,  we  are  all  such  helpless  failures  in  the  last 
resort.  The  sanest  and  best  of  us  are  of  one  clay  with 
lunatics  and  prison  inmates,  and  death  finally  runs  the 
robustest  of  us  down.  And  whenever  we  feel  this,  such 
a sense  of  the  vanity  and  provisionality  of  our  voluntary 
career  comes  over  us  that  all  our  morality  appears  but  as 
a plaster  hiding  a sore  it  can  never  cure,  and  all  our  well- 
doing as  the  hollowest  substitute  for  that  well-6emy  that 
our  lives  ought  to  be  grounded  in,  but,  alas  ! are  not. 

And  here  rehgion  comes  to  our  rescue  and  takes  our 
fate  into  her  hands.  There  is  a state  of  mind,  known 
to  religious  men,  but  to  no  others,  in  which  the  will  to 
assert  ourselves  and  hold  our  own  has  been  displaced  by 
a willingness  to  close  our  mouths  and  be  as  nothing  in  the 
floods  and  waterspouts  of  God.  In  this  state  of  mind, 
what  we  most  dreaded  has  become  the  habitation  of 
our  safety,  and  the  hour  of  our  moral  death  has  turned 
into  our  spiritual  birthday.  The  time  for  tension  in 
our  soul  is  over,  and  that  of  happy  relaxation,  of  cahn 
deep  breathing,  of  an  eternal  present,  with  no  discordant 
future  to  be  anxious  about,  has  arrived.  Fear  is  not 
held  in  abeyance  as  it  is  by  mere  morality,  it  is  positively 
expunged  and  washed  away. 

We  shall  see  abundant  examples  of  this  happy  state  of 
mind  in  later  lectures  of  this  course.  W e shall  see  how 
infinitely  passionate  a thing  religion  at  its  highest  flights 
can  be.  Like  love,  like  wrath,  like  hope,  ambition,  jeal- 
ousy, like  every  other  instinctive  eagerness  and  impulse, 
i it  adds  to  life  an  enchantment  which  is  not  rationally  or 
logically  deducible  from  anything  else.  This  enchant- 
ment, coming  as  a gift  when  it  does  come,  — a gift  of  our 
j organism,  the  physiologists  will  tell  us,  a gift  of  God’s 
; grace,  the  theologians  say,  — is  either  there  or  not  there 
1 for  us,  and  there  are  persons  who  can  no  more  become 


48 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


possessed  by  it  than  they  can  fall  in  love  with  a given 
woman  by  mere  word  of  command.  Religious  feeling 
is  thus  an  absolute  addition  to  the  Subject’s  range  of  Hfe. 
It  gives  him  a new  sphere  of  power.  When  the  outward 
battle  is  lost,  and  the  outer  world  disowns  him,  it  redeems 
and  vivifies  an  interior  world  which  otherwise  would  be 
an  empty  waste. 

If  religion  is  to  mean  anything  definite  for  us,  it  seems 
to  me  that  we  ought  to  take  it  as  meaning  this  added 
dimension  of  emotion,  this  enthusiastic  temper  of  espousal, 
in  regions  where  morality  strictly  so  called  can  at  best 
but  bow  its  head  and  acquiesce.  It  ought  to  mean  no- 
thing short  of  this  new  reach  of  freedom  for  us,  with  the 
struggle  over,  the  keynote  of  the  universe  sounding  in 
our  ears,  and  everlasting  possession  spread  before  our 
eyes.^ 

This  sort  of  happiness  in  the  absolute  and  everlasting 
is  what  we  find  nowhere  but  in  religion.  It  is  parted  off 
from  all  mere  animal  happiness,  all  mere  enjoyment  of 
the  present,  by  that  element  of  solemnity  of  which  I have 
already  made  so  much  account.  Solemnity  is  a hard 
thing  to  define  abstractly,  but  certain  of  its  marks  are 
patent  enough.  A solemn  state  of  mind  is  never  crude 
or  simple  — it  seems  to  contain  a certain  measure  of  its 
own  opposite  in  solution.  A solemn  joy  preserves  a sort 
of  bitter  in  its  sweetness  ; a solemn  sorrow  is  one  to  which 
we  intimately  consent.  But  there  are  writers  who,  real- 
izing that  happiness  of  a supreme  sort  is  the  prerogative 
of  religion,  forget  this  complication,  and  call  all  happi- 
ness, as  such,  religious.  Mr.  Havelock  Ellis,  for  exam- 

1 Once  more,  there  are  plenty  of  men,  constitutionally  sombre  men,  in 
whose  religious  life  this  rapturousness  is  lacking.  They  are  religious  iiii 
the  wider  sense;  yet  in  this  acutest  of  all  senses  they  are  not  so,  and  it  is] 
religion  in  the  acutest  sense  that  I wish,  without  disputing  about  words,  to] 
study  first,  so  as  to  get  at  its  typical  differentia.  I 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


4S 


pie,  identifies  religion  with  the  entire  field  of  the  soul’s 
liberation  from  oppressive  moods. 

“ The  simplest  fimctions  of  physiological  life,”  he  writes, 
“ may  be  its  ministers.  Every  one  who  is  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  Persian  mystics  knows  how  wine  may  be  regarded  as 
an  instrument  of  religion.  Indeed,  in  all  countries  and  in  all 
ages,  some  form  of  physical  enlargement  — singing,  dancing, 
drinking,  sexual  excitement  — has  been  intimately  associated 
with  worship.  Even  the  momentary  expansion  of  the  soul  in 
laughter  is,  to  however  slight  an  extent,  a religious  exercise. 
. . . Whenever  an  impulse  from  the  world  strikes  against  the 
organism,  and  the  resultant  is  not  discomfort  or  pain,  not  even 
the  muscular  contraction  of  strenuous  manhood,  but  a joyous 
expansion  or  aspiration  of  the  whole  soul  — there  is  religion. 
It  is  the  infinite  for  which  we  hunger,  and  we  ride  gladly  on 
every  little  wave  that  promises  to  bear  us  towards  it.”  ^ 

But  such  a straight  identification  of  rehgion  with  any 
and  every  form  of  happiness  leaves  the  essential  peculiar- 
ity of  religious  happiness  out.  The  more  commonplace 
happinesses  which  we  get  are  ‘ reliefs,’  occasioned  by 
our  momentary  escapes  from  evils  either  experienced  or 
threatened.  But  in  its  most  characteristic  embodiments, 
religious  happiness  is  no  mere  feeling  of  escape.  It  cares 
no  longer  to  escape.  It  consents  to  the  evil  outwardly  as 
a form  of  sacrifice  — inwardly  it  knows  it  to  be  perma- 
nently overcome.  If  you  ask  how  religion  thus  falls  on 
the  thorns  and  faces  death,  and  in  the  very  act  annuls 
annihilation,  I cannot  explain  the  matter,  for  it  is  reh- 
gion’s  secret,  and  to  understand  it  you  must  yourself  have 
been  a religious  man  of  the  extremer  type.  In  our  fu- 
ture examples,  even  of  the  simplest  and  healthiest-minded 
type  of  religious  consciousness,  we  shall  find  this  complex 
sacrificial  constitution,  in  which  a higher  happiness  holds 
a lower  unhappiness  in  check.  In  the  Louvre  there  is  a 
^ The  New  Spirit,  p.  232. 


60 


THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


picture,  by  Guido  Reni,  of  St.  Michael  with  his  foot  on 
Satan’s  neck.  The  richness  of  the  picture  is  in  large  part 
due  to  the  fiend’s  figure  bemg  there.  The  richness  of  its 
allegorical  meaning  also  is  due  to  his  being  there  — that 
is,  the  world  is  all  the  richer  for  having  a devil  in  it,  so 
long  as  we  keep  our  foot  upon  his  neck.  In  the  religious 
consciousness,  that  is  just  the  position  in  which  the  fiend, 
the  negative  or  tragic  principle,  is  found ; and  for  that 
very  reason  the  religious  consciousness  is  so  rich  from  the 
emotional  point  of  view.^  We  shall  see  how  in  certain 
men  and  women  it  takes  on  a monstrously  ascetic  form. 
There  are  saints  who  have  literally  fed  on  the  negative 
principle,  on  humiliation  and  privation,  and  the  thought 
of  suffering  and  death,  — their  souls  growing  in  happi- 
ness just  in  proportion  as  their  outward  state  grew  more 
intolerable.  No  other  emotion  than  religious  emotion 
can  bring  a man  to  this  peculiar  pass.  And  it  is  for 
that  reason  that  when  we  ask  our  question  about  the 
value  of  religion  for  human  life,  I think  we  ought  to 
look  for  the  answer  among  these  violenter  examples 
rather  than  among  those  of  a more  moderate  hue. 

Having  the  phenomenon  of  our  study  in  its  acutest 
possible  form  to  start  with,  we  can  shade  down  as  much 
as  we  please  later.  And  if  in  these  cases,  repulsive  as 
they  are  to  our  ordinary  worldly  way  of  judging,  we  find 
ourselves  compelled  to  acknowledge  religion’s  value  and 
treat  it  with  respect,  it  will  have  proved  in  some  way  its 
value  for  life  at  large.  By  subtracting  and  toning  down 
extravagances  we  may  thereupon  proceed  to  trace  the^ 
boundaries  of  its  legitimate  sway. 

To  be  sure,  it  makes  our  task  difficult  to  have  to  deah 
so  much  with  eccentricities  and  extremes.  “ How  cam 

1 I owe  this  allegorical  illustration  to  my  lamented  colleague  and  friend,! 
Charles  Carroll  Everett.  J 


CIRCUMSCRIPTION  OF  THE  TOPIC 


51 


religion  on  the  whole  be  the  most  important  of  all  human 
functions,”  you  may  ask,  “ if  every  several  manifestation 
of  it  in  turn  have  to  be  corrected  and  sobered  down  and 
pruned  away  ? ” Such  a thesis  seems  a paradox  impos- 
sible to  sustain  reasonably,  — yet  I believe  that  some- 
thing like  it  will  have  to  be  our  final  contention.  That 
personal  attitude  which  the  individual  finds  himself  im- 
pelled to  take  up  towards  what  he  apprehends  to  be  the 
divine  — and  you  will  remember  that  this  was  our  defi- 
nition — will  prove  to  be  both  a helpless  and  a sacrificial 
attitude.  That  is,  we  shall  have  to  confess  to  at  least 
some  amount  of  dependence  on  sheer  mercy,  and  to 
practice  some  amount  of  renunciation,  great  or  small,  to 
save  our  souls  alive.  The  constitution  of  the  world  we 
live  in  requires  it : — 


“ Entbehren  sollst  du  ! sollst  entbehren  ! 
Uas  ist  der  ewige  Gesang 
Der  jedem  an  die  Ohren  klingt, 

Den,  unser  ganzes  Leben  lang 
Uns  heiser  jede  Stunde  singt.” 


For  when  all  is  said  and  done,  we  are  in  the  end  abso- 
lutely dependent  on  the  universe ; and  into  sacrifices 
and  surrenders  of  some  sort,  deliberately  looked  at  and 
accepted,  we  are  drawn  and  pressed  as  into  our  only 
permanent  positions  of  repose.  Now  in  those  states  of 
mind  which  fall  short  of  religion,  the  surrender  is  sub- 
mitted to  as  an  imposition  of  necessity,  and  the  sacrifice 
is  undergone  at  the  very  best  without  complaint.  In  the 
religious  life,  on  the  contrary,  surrender  and  sacrifice 
are  positively  espoused : even  unnecessary  givings-up  are 


added  in  order  that  the  happiness  may  increase.  Religion 


thus  makes  easy  and  felicitous  what  in  any  case  is/' 
necessary  ; and  if  it  be  the  only  agency  that  can  accom- 
phsh  this  result,  its  vital  importance  as  a human  faculty 


62  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

stands  vindicated  beyond  dispute.  It  becomes  an  essen- 
tial organ  of  our  life,  performing  a function  which  no 
other  portion  of  our  nature  can  so  successfully  fulfill. 
Prom  the  merely  biological  point  of  view,  so  to  call  it, 
this  is  a conclusion  to  which,  so  far  as  I can  now  see,  we 
shall  inevitably  be  led,  and  led  moreover  by  following 
the  purely  empirical  method  of  demonstration  which  I 
sketched  to  you  in  the  first  lecture.  Of  the  farther 
office  of  religion  as  a metaphysical  revelation  I will  say 
nothing  now. 

But  to  foreshadow  the  terminus  of  one’s  investigations 
is  one  thing,  and  to  arrive  there  safely  is  another.  In  the 
next  lecture,  abandoning  the  extreme  generalities  which 
have  engrossed  us  hitherto,  I propose  that  we  begin  oui 
actual  journey  by  addressing  ourselves  directly  to  the 
concrete  facts. 


LECTURE  m 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 

WERE  one  asked  to  characterize  the  life  of  religion 
in  the  broadest  and  most  general  terms  possible, 
one  might  say  that  it  consists  of  the  belief  that  there 
is  an  unseen  order,  and  that  our  supreme  good  lies  in 
harmoniously  adjusting  ourselves  thereto.  This  belief 
and  this  adjustment  are  the  religious  attitude  in  the  soul. 
I wish  during  this  hour  to  call  your  attention  to  some  of 
the  psychological  peculiarities  of  such  an  attitude  as  this, 
of  behef  in  an  object  which  we  cannot  see.  All  our  atti- 
tudes, moral,  practical,  or  emotional,  as  well  as  religious, 
are  due  to  the  ‘ objects  ’ of  our  consciousness,  the  things 
which  we  beheve  to  exist,  whether  really  or  ideally,  along 
with  ourselves.  Such  objects  may  be  present  to  our 
senses,  or  they  may  be  present  only  to  our  thought.  In 
either  case  they  elicit  from  us  a reaction  ; and  the  reac- 
tion due  to  things  of  thought  is  notoriously  in  many 
cases  as  strong  as  that  due  to  sensible  presences.  It 
may  be  even  stronger.  The  memory  of  an  insult  may 
make  us  angrier  than  the  insult  did  when  we  received  it. 
We  are  frequently  more  ashamed  of  our  blunders  after- 
wards than  we  were  at  the  moment  of  making  them; 
and  in  general  our  whole  higher  prudential  and  moral 
hfe  is  based  on  the  fact  that  material  sensations  actually 
present  may  have  a weaker  influence  on  our  action  than 
ideas  of  remoter  facts. 

The  more  concrete  objects  of  most  men’s  religion,  the 
deities  whom  they  worship,  are  known  to  them  only  in 


54 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


idea.  It  has  been  vouchsafed,  for  example,  to  very  few 
Christian  believers  to  have  had  a sensible  vision  of  their 
Saviour  ; though  enough  appearances  of  this  sort  are  on 
record,  by  way  of  miraculous  exception,  to  merit  our 
attention  later.  The  whole  force  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion, therefore,  so  far  as  belief  in  the  divine  personages 
determines  the  prevalent  attitude  of  the  believer,  is  in 
general  exerted  by  the  instrumentality  of  pure  ideas,  of 
which  nothing  in  the  individual’s  past  experience  directly 
serves  as  a model. 

But  in  addition  to  these  ideas  of  the  more  concrete 
religious  objects,  religion  is  full  of  abstract  objects  which 
prove  to  have  an  equal  power.  God’s  attributes  as  such, 
his  holiness,  his  justice,  his  mercy,  his  absoluteness,  his 
infinity,  his  omniscience,  his  tri-unity,  the  various  myster- 
ies of  the  redemptive  process,  the  operation  of  the  sacra- 
ments, etc.,  have  proved  fertile  wells  of  inspiriug  medita- 
tion for  Christian  believers.^  We  shall  see  later  that  the 
absence  of  definite  sensible  images  is  positively  insisted 
on  by  the  mystical  authorities  in  all  religions  as  the  sine 
qua  non  of  a successful  orison,  or  contemplation  of  the 
higher  divine  truths.  Such  contemplations  are  expected 
(and  abundantly  verify  the  expectation,  as  we  shall  also 
see)  to  influence  the  believer’s  subsequent  attitude  very 
powerfully  for  good. 

Immanuel  Kant  held  a curious  doctrine  about  such  ob- 
jects of  belief  as  God,  the  design  of  creation,  the  soul,  its 
freedom,  and  the  life  hereafter.  These  things,  he  said, 

^ Example  : “ I have  had  much  comfort  lately  in  meditating  on  the  pas- 
sages which  show  the  personality  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  his  distinctness 
from  the  Father  and  the  Son.  It  is  a subject  that  requires  searching  into 
to  find  out,  but,  when  realized,  gives  one  so  much  more  true  and  lively  a 
sense  of  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead,  and  its  work  in  us  and  to  us,  than 
when  only  thinking  of  the  Spirit  in  its  effect  on  us.”  AUGUSTUS  Hake:' 
Memorials,  i.  244,  Maria  Hare  to  Lucy  H.  Hare. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


55 


are  properly  not  objects  of  knowledge  at  all.  Our  con- 
ceptions always  require  a sense-content  to  work  with,  and 
as  the  words  ‘ soul,’  ‘ God,’  ‘ immortality,’  cover  no  dis- 
tinctive sense-content  whatever,  it  follows  that  theoreti- 
cally speaking  they  are  words  devoid  of  any  significance. 
Yet  strangely  enough  they  have  a definite  meaning /or 
our  practice.  W e can  act  as  if  there  were  a God  \ feel 
as  if  we  were  free ; consider  Nature  as  if  she  were  full 
of  special  designs ; lay  plans  as  if  we  were  to  be  immor- 
tal ; and  we  find  then  that  these  words  do  make  a genu- 
ine difference  in  our  moral  life.  Our  faith  that  these 
unintelligible  objects  actually  exist  proves  thus  to  be  a 
full  equivalent  in  praktischer  Hinsicht,  as  Kant  calls  it,  or 
from  the  point  of  view  of  our  action,  for  a knowledge  of 
what  they  might  be,  in  case  we  were  permitted  positively 
to  conceive  them.  So  we  have  the  strange  phenomenon, 
as  Kant  assures  us,  of  a mind  believing  with  all  its 
strength  in  the  real  presence  of  a set  of  things  of  no  one 
of  which  it  can  form  any  notion  whatsoever. 

My  object  in  thus  recalling  Kant’s  doctrine  to  your 
mind  is  not  to  express  any  opinion  as  to  the  accuracy  of 
this  particularly  uncouth  part  of  his  philosophy,  but  only 
to  illustrate  the  characteristic  of  human  nature  which  we 
are  considering,  by  an  example  so  classical  in  its  exagger- 
ation. The  sentiment  of  reality  can  indeed  attach  itself 
so  strongly  to  our  object  of  belief  that  our  whole  life  is ^ 
polarized  through  and  through,  so  to  speak,  by  its  sense 
of  the  existence  of  the  thing  believed  in,  and  yet  that 
thing,  for  purpose  of  definite  description,  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  present  to  our  mind  at  all.  It  is  as  if  a bar  of 
iron,  without  touch  or  sight,  with  no  representative  faculty 
whatever,  might  nevertheless  be  strongly  endowed  with  an 
inner  capacity  for  magnetic  feeling'^and  as  if,  through 
the  various  arousals  of  its  magnetism  by  magnets  coming 


56 


THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  going  in  its  neighborhood,  it  might  be  consciously 
determined  to  different  attitudes  and  tendencies.  Such 
a bar  of  iron  could  never  give  you  an  outward  descrip- 
tion of  the  agencies  that  had  the  power  of  stirring  it  so 
strongly  ; yet  of  their  presence,  and  of  their  significance 
for  its  life,  it  would  be  intensely  aware  through  every 
fibre  of  its  being. 

It  is  not  only  the  Ideas  of  pure  Reason,  as  Kant  styled 
them,  that  have  this  power  of  making  us  vitally  feel  pre- 
sences that  we  are  impotent  articulately  to  describe.  All 
sorts  of  higher  abstractions  bring  with  them  the  same 
kind  of  impalpable  appeal.  Remember  those  passages 
from  Emerson  which  I read  at  my  last  lecture.  The 
whole  universe  of  concrete  objects,  as  we  know  them, 
swims,  not  only  for  such  a transcendentalist  writer,  but 
for  all  of  us,  in  a wider  and  higher  universe  of  abstract 
ideas,  that  lend  it  its  significance.  As  time,  space,  and 
the  ether  soak  through  all  things,  so  (we  feel)  do  abstract 
and  essential  goodness,  beauty,  strength,  significance, 
justice,  soak  through  all  things  good,  strong,  significant, 
and  just. 

Such  ideas,  and  others  equally  abstract,  form  the  back- 
ground for  all  our  facts,  the  fountain-head  of  all  the 
possibilities  we  conceive  of.  They  give  its  ‘ nature,’  as 
we  call  it,  to  every  special  thing.  Everything  we  know 
is  ‘ what  ’ it  is  by  sharing  in  the  nature  of  one  of  these 
abstractions.  We  can  never  look  directly  at  them,  for 
they  are  bodiless  and  featureless  and  footless,  but  we 
grasp  all  other  things  by  their  means,  and  in  handling 
the  real  world  w^e  should  be  stricken  with  helplessness  in 
just  so  far  forth  as  we  might  lose  these  mental  objects, 
these  adjectives  and  adverbs  and  predicates  and  heads  of 
classification  and  conception. 

This  absolute  determinabihty  of  our  mind  by  abstrac- 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


57 


tions  is  one  of  the  cardinal  facts  in  our  human  constitu= 
tion.  Polarizing  and  magnetizing  us  as  they  do,  we  turn 
towards  them  and  from  them,  we  seek  them,  hold  them, 
hate  them,  bless  them,  just  as  if  they  were  so  many  con- 
crete beings.  And  beings  they  are,  beings  as  real  in  the 
realm  which  they  inhabit  as  the  changing  things  of  sense 
are  in  the  realm  of  space. 

Plato  gave  so  brilliant  and  impressive  a defense  of  this 
common  human  feeling,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  reality 
of  abstract  objects  has  been  known  as  the  platonic  theory 
of  ideas  ever  since.  Abstract  Beauty,  for  example,  is  for 
Plato- a perfectly  definite  individual  being,  of  which  the 
intellect  is  aware  as  of  something  additional  to  all  the  per- 
ishing beauties  of  the  earth.  “ The  true  order  of  going,” 
he  says,  in  the  often  quoted  passage  in  his  ‘ Banquet,’ 
“ is  to  use  the  beauties  of  earth  as  steps  along  which  one 
mounts  upwards  for  the  sake  of  that  other  Beauty,  going 
from  one  to  two,  and  from  two  to  all  fair  forms,  and  from 
fair  forms  to  fair  actions,  and  from  fair  actions  to  fair 
notions,  until  from  fair  notions  he  arrives  at  the  notion 
of  absolute  Beauty,  and  at  last  knows  what  the  essence 
of  Beauty  is.”  ^ In  our  last  lecture  we  had  a glimpse  of 
the  way  in  which  a platonizing  writer  like  Emerson  may 
treat  the  abstract  divineness  of  things,  the  moral  struc- 
ture of  the  universe,  as  a fact  worthy  of  worship.  In 
those  various  churches  vnthout  a God  which  to-day  are 
spreading  through  the  world  under  the  name  of  ethical 
societies,  we  have  a similar  worship  of  the  abstract  di- 
vine, the  moral  law  believed  in  as  an  ultimate  object. 

‘ Science  ’ in  many  minds  is  genuinely  taking  the  place 
of  a religion.  Where  this  is  so,  the  scientist  treats  the 
‘Laws  of  Nature’  as  objective  facts  to  be  revered.  A 
brilliant  school  of  interpretation  of  Greek  mythology 
1 Symposium,  Jowett,  1871,  i.  627. 


58  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

would  have  it  that  in  their  origin  the  Greek  gods 
were  only  half-metaphoric  personifications  of  those  great 
spheres  of  abstract  law  and  order  into  which  the  natural 
world  falls  apart  — the  sky-sphere,  the  ocean-sphere,  the 
earth-sphere,  and  the  like  ; just  as  even  now  we  may 
speak  of  the  smile  of  the  morning,  the  kiss  of  the  breeze, 
or  the  bite  of  the  cold,  without  really  meaning  that  these 
phenomena  of  nature  actually  wear  a hiunan  faced 

As  regards  the  origin  of  the  Greek  gods,  we  need  not 
at  present  seek  an  opinion.  But  the  whole  array  of  our 
instances  leads  to  a conclusion  something  hke  this ; It  is 
as  if  there  were  in  the  human  consciousness  a sense  of 
reality,  a feeling  of  objective  presence,  a perception  of 
what  we  may  call  ‘ something  there,’  more  deep  and  more 
general  than  any  of  the  special  and  particular  ‘ senses  ’ 
by  which  the  current  psychology  supposes  existent  reali- 
ties to  be  originally  revealed.  If  this  were  so,  we  might 
suppose  the  senses  to  waken  our  attitudes  and  conduct  as 
they  so  habitually  do,  by  first  exciting  this  sense  of  real- 
ity ; but  anything  else,  any  idea,  for  example,  that  might 
similarly  excite  it,  would  have  that  same  prerogative  of 
appearing  real  which  objects  of  sense  normally  possess. 
So  far  as  religious  conceptions  were  able  to  touch  this 
reality-feeling,  they  would  be  believed  in  in  spite  of  criti- 
cism, even  though  they  might  be  so  vague  and  remote  as 
to  be  almost  unimaginable,  even  though  they  might  be 
such  non-entities  in  point  of  whatness,  as  Kant  makes 
the  objects  of  his  moral  theology  to  be. 

The  most  curious  proofs  of  the  existence  of  such  an 
undifferentiated  sense  of  reahty  as  this  are  found  in  ex- 
periences of  hallucination.  It  often  happens  that  an 

1 Example  : “ Nature  is  always  so  interesting,  under  whatever  aspect  she 
shows  herself,  that  when  it  rains,  I seem  to  see  a beautiful  woman  weeping. 
She  appears  the  more  beautiful,  the  more  afflicted  she  is.”  B.  de  St.  Pierre. 


THE  KEALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


59 


hallucination  is  imperfectly  developed : the  person  af- 
fected will  feel  a ‘ presence  ’ in  the  room,  definitely  locah 
ized,  facing  in  one  particular  way,  real  in  the  most  em- 
phatic sense  of  the  word,  often  coming  suddenly,  and  as 
suddenly  gone  ; and  yet  neither  seen,  heard,  touched, 
nor  cognized  in  any  of  the  usual  ‘ sensible  ’ ways.  Let 
me  give  you  an  example  of  this,  before  I pass  to  the 
objects  with  whose  presence  religion  is  more  peculiarly) 
concerned. 

An  intimate  friend  of  mine,  one  of  the  keenest  intellects 
I know,  has  had  several  experiences  of  this  sort.  He 
writes  as  follows  in  response  to  mv  inquiries  : — 

“ I have  several  times  within  thf 
called  ‘ consciousness  of  a presence, 
have  in  mind  are  clearly  distinguit 
experience  which  I have  had  very  fr 
many  persons  would  also  call  the  ‘ c 
But  the  difference  for  me  between 
is  as  great  as  the  difference  betwe 
originating  I know  not  where,  and  s 
conflagration  with  all  the  ordinary  i 

“ It  was  about  September,  1884,  _____ 
ence.  On  the  previous  night  I had  had,  after  getting  into  oea 
at  my  rooms  in  College,  a vivid  tactile  hallucination  of  being 
grasped  by  the  arm,  which  made  me  get  up  and  search  the 
room  for  an  intruder ; but  the  sense  of  presence  properly  so 
called  came  on  the  next  night.  After  I had  got  into  bed  and 
blown  out  the  candle,  I lay  awake  awhile  thinking  on  the  pre- 
vious night’s  experience,  when  suddenly  \felt  something  come 
into  the  room  and  stay  close  to  my  bed.  It  remained  only  a 
minute  or  two.  I did  not  recognize  it  by  any  ordinary  sense, 
and  yet  there  was  a horribly  unpleasant  ‘ sensation  ’ connected 
with  it.  It  stirred  something  more  at  the  roots  of  my  being 
than  any  ordinary  perception.  The  feeling  had  something  of 
the  quality  of  a very  large  tearing  vital  pain  spreading  chiefly 
over  the  chest,  but  within  the  organism  — and  yet  the  feeling 


60 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


was  not  pain  so  much  as  abhorrence.  At  all  events,  something 
was  present  with  me,  and  I knew  its  presence  far  more  surely 
than  I have  ever  known  the  presence  of  any  fleshly  living 
creature.  I was  conscious  of  its  departure  as  of  its  coming: 
an  almost  instantaneously  swift  going  through  the  door,  and 
the  * horrible  sensation  ’ disappeared. 

“ On  the  third  night  when  I retired  my  mind  was  absorbed 
in  some  lectures  which  I was  preparing,  and  I was  still  ab- 
sorbed in  these  when  I became  aware  of  the  actual  presence 
(though  not  of  the  coming')  of  the  thing  that  was  there  the 
night  before,  and  of  the  ‘ horrible  sensation.’  I then  mentally 
concentrated  all  my  effort  to  charge  this  ‘ thing,’  if  it  was  evil, 
to  depart,  if  it  was  not  evil,  to  tell  me  who  or  what  it  was,  and 
if  it  ■>  • •'  j wouM  compcl  it 

revious  night,  and  my  body  quickly 

in  my  life  I have  had  precisely  the 
Once  it  lasted  a full  quarter  of  an 
es  the  certainty  that  there  in  out- 
lething  was  indescribably  stronger 
of  companionship  when  we  are  in 
ary  living  people.  The  something 
msely  more  real  than  any  ordinary 
It  it  to  be  like  unto  myself,  so  to 
HllO.  distressful,  as  it  were,  I did  n’t  recog- 
nize it  as  any  individual  being  or  person.” 

Of  course  such  an  experience  as  this  does  not  connect 
itself  with  the  religious  sphere.  Yet  it  may  upon  occa- 
sion do  so  ; and  the  same  correspondent  informs  me  that 
at  more  than  one  other  conjuncture  he  had  the  sense  of 
presence  developed  with  equal  intensity  and  abruptness, 
only  then  it  was  filled  with  a quality  of  joy. 

“There  was  not  a mere  consciousness  of  something  there, 
but  fused  in  the  central  happiness  of  it,  a startling  awareness  of 
some  ineffable  good.  Not  vague  either,  not  like  the  emotional 
effect  of  some  poem,  or  scene,  or  blossom,  of  music,  but  the  sure 
knowledge  of  the  close  presence  of  a sort  of  mighty  person,  and 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


61 


j after  it  went,  the  memory  persisted  as  the  one  perception  of 
I reality.  Everything  else  might  be  a dream,  but  not  that.” 

I My  friend,  as  it  oddly  happens,  does  not  interpret 
these  latter  experiences  theistically,  as  signifying  the  pre- 
sence of  God.  But  it  would  clearly  not  have  been 
unnatural  to  interpret  them  as  a revelation  of  the  deity’s 
existence.  When  we  reach  the  subject  of  mysticism,  we 
shall  have  much  more  to  say  upon  this  head. 

Lest  the  oddity  of  these  phenomena  should  disconcert 
you,  I will  venture  to  read  you  a couple  of  similar  narra- 
tives, much  shorter,  merely  to  show  that  we  are  deahng 
with  a well-marked  natural  kind  of  fact.  In  the  first 
case,  which  I take  from  the  Journal  of  the  Society  for 
Psychical  Research,  the  sense  of  presence  developed  in 
a few  moments  into  a distinctly  visualized  hallucination, 

■ — but  I leave  that  part  of  the  story  out. 

“ I had  read,”  the  narrator  says,  “ some  twenty  minutes  or 
so,  was  thoroughly  absorbed  in  the  book,  my  mind  was  per- 
fectly quiet,  and  for  the  time  being  my  friends  were  quite  for- 
gotten, when  suddenly  without  a moment’s  warning  my  whole 
being  seemed  roused  to  the  highest  state  of  tension  or  alive- 
ness,  and  I was  aware,  with  an  intenseness  not  easily  imagined 
by  those  who  had  never  experienced  it,  that  another  being 
or  presence  was  not  only  in  the  room,  but  quite  close  to  me. 
I put  my  book  down,  and  although  my  excitement  was  great, 
I felt  quite  collected,  and  not  conscious  of  any  sense  of  fear. 
Without  changing  my  position,  and  looking  straight  at  the  fire, 
I knew  somehow  that  my  friend  A.  H.  was  standing  at  my  left 
elbow,  but  so  far  behind  me  as  to  be  hidden  by  the  armchair  in 
which  I was  leaning  back.  Moving  my  eyes  round  slightly 
without  otherwise  changing  my  position,  the  lower  portion  of 
one  leg  became  visible,  and  I instantly  recognized  the  gray- 
blue  material  of  trousers  he  often  wore,  but  the  stuff  appeared 
semi-transparent,  reminding  me  of  tobacco  smoke  in  consist* 
ency,”  ^ — and  hereupon  the  visual  hallucination  came. 

^ Journal  of  the  S.  P.  R.,  February,  1895,  p.  26. 


62 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Another  informant  writes : — 

“ Quite  early  in  the  night  I was  awakened.  ...  I felt  as  if 
I had  been  aroused  intentionally,  and  at  first  thought  some  one 
was  breaking  into  the  house.  ...  I then  turned  on  my  side  to 
go  to  sleep  again,  and  immediately  felt  a consciousness  of  a 
presence  in  the  room,  and  singular  to  state,  it  was  not  the  con- 
sciousness of  a live  person,  but  of  a spiritual  presence.  This 
may  provoke  a smile,  but  I can  only  tell  you  the  facts  as  they 
occurred  to  me.  I do  not  know  how  to  better  describe  my 
sensations  than  by  simply  stating  that  I felt  a consciousness  of 
a spiritual  presence.  ...  I felt  also  at  the  same  time  a strong 
feeling  of  superstitious  dread,  as  if  something  strange  and  fear- 
ful were  about  to  happen.”  ^ 

Professor  Flournoy  of  Geneva  gives  me  the  following 
testimony  of  a friend  of  his,  a lady,  who  has  the  gift  of 
automatic  or  involuntary  writing  : — 

“ Whenever  I practice  automatic  writing,  what  makes  me  feel 
that  it  is  not  due  to  a subconscious  self  is  the  feeling  I always 
have  of  a foreign  presence,  external  to  my  body.  It  is  some- 
times so  definitely  characterized  that  I could  point  to  its  exact 
position.  This  impression  of  presence  is  impossible  to  describe. 
It  varies  in  intensity  and  clearness  according  to  the  personality 
from  whom  the  writing  professes  to  come.  If  it  is  some  one 
whom  I love,  I feel  it  immediately,  before  any  writing  has  come. 
My  heart  seems  to  recognize  it.” 

In  an  earlier  book  of  mine  I have  cited  at  full  length 
a curious  case  of  presence  felt  by  a blind  man.  The 
presence  was  that  of  the  figure  of  a gray-bearded  man 
dressed  in  a pepper  and  salt  suit,  squeezing  himself 
under  the  crack  of  the  door  and  moving  across  the  floor 
of  the  room  towards  a sofa.  The  blind  subject  of  this 
quasi-hallucination  is  an  exceptionally  intelligent  reporter. 
He  is  entirely  without  internal  visual  imagery  and  cannot 
represent  light  or  colors  to  himseK,  and  is  positive  that 
1 E.  Gurney:  Phantasms  of  the  Living,  i.  384. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


63 


his  other  senses,  hearing,  etc.,  were  not  involved  in  this 
false  perception.  It  seems  to  have  been  an  abstract  con- 
ception rather,  with  the  feelings  of  reality  and  spatial 
outwardness  directly  attached  to  it  — in  other  words,  a 
fully  objectified  and  exteriorized  idea. 

Such  cases,  taken  along  with  others  which  would  be 
too  tedious  for  quotation,  seem  sufiiciently  to  prove  the 
existence  in  our  mental  machinery  of  a sense  of  present 
reality  more  diffused  and  general  than  that  which  our 
special  senses  yield.  For  the  pyschologists  the  tracing  of 
the  organic  seat  of  such  a feeling  would  form  a pretty 
problem  — nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  to  con- 
nect it  with  the  muscular  sense,  with  the  feeling  that  our 
muscles  were  innervating  themselves  for  action.  What- 
soever thus  innervated  our  activity,  or  ‘made  our  flesh 
creep,’  — our  senses  are  what  do  so  oftenest,  — might 
then  appear  real  and  present,  even  though  it  were  but  an 
abstract  idea.  But  with  such  vague  conjectures  we  have 
no  concern  at  present,  for  our  interest  lies  with  the  fac- 
ulty rather  than  with  its  organic  seat. 

Like  all  positive  affections  of  consciousness,  the  sense 
of  reality  has  its  negative  counterpart  in  the  shape  of  a 
feeling  of  unreality  by  which  persons  may  be  haunted, 
and  of  which  one  sometimes  hears  complaint : — 

“ When  I reflect  on  the  fact  that  I have  made  my  appear- 
ance by  accident  upon  a globe  itself  whirled  through  space  as 
the  sport  of  the  catastrophes  of  the  heavens,”  says  Madame 
Ackermann  ; “ when  I see  myself  surrounded  by  beings  as 
ephemeral  and  incomprehensible  as  I am  myself,  and  all  excit- 
edly pursuing  pure  chimeras,  I experience  a strange  feeling  of 
being  in  a dream.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I have  loved  and 
suffered  and  that  erelong  I shall  die,  in  a dream.  My  last 
word  will  be,  ‘ I have  been  dreaming.’  ” ^ 

1 Pensdes  d’un  Solitaire,  p.  66 


64 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


In  another  lecture  we  shall  see  how  in  morbid  melan- 
choly this  sense  of  the  unreality  of  things  may  become 
a carking  pain,  and  even  lead  to  suicide. 

We  may  now  lay  it  down  as  certain  that  in  the  dis= 
tinctively  religious  sphere  of  experience,  many  persons 
(how  many  we  cannot  tell)  possess  the  objects  of  their 
belief,  not  in  the  form  of  mere  conceptions  which  their 
intellect  accepts  as  true,  but  rather  in  the  form  of  quasi- 
sensible  realities  directly  apprehended.  As  his  sense 
of  the  real  presence  of  these  objects  fluctuates,  so  the 
believer  alternates  between  warmth  and  coldness  in  his 
faith.  Other  examples  will  bring  this  home  to  one  better 
than  abstract  description,  so  I proceed  immediately  to  cite 
some.  The  first  example  is  a negative  one,  deploring  the 
loss  of  the  sense  in  question.  I have  extracted  it  from 
an  account  given  me  by  a scientific  man  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, of  his  religious  hfe.  It  seems  to  me  to  show  clearly 
that  the  feeling  of  reahty  may  be  something  more  like 
a sensation  than  an  intellectual  operation  properly  so- 
called. 

“ Between  twenty  and  thirty  I gradually  became  more  and 
more  agnostic  and  irreligious,  yet  I cannot  say  that  I ever 
lost  that  ‘ indefinite  consciousness  ’ which  Herbert  Spencer 
describes  so  well,  of  an  Absolute  Reality  behind  phenomena. 
For  me  this  Reality  was  not  the  pure  Unknowable  of  Spencer’s 
philosophy,  for  although  I had  ceased  my  childish  prayers  to 
God,  and  never  prayed  to  It  in  a formal  manner,  yet  my  more 
recent  experience  shows  me  to  have  been  in  a relation  to  It  which 
practically  was  the  same  thing  as  prayer.  Whenever  I had  any 
trouble,  especially  when  I had  conflict  with  other  people,  either 
domestically  or  in  the  way  of  business,  or  when  I was  depressed 
in  spirits  or  anxious  about  affairs,  I now  recognize  that  I used 
to  fall  back  for  support  upon  this  curious  relation  I felt  myself 
to  be  in  to  this  fundamental  cosmical  It.  It  was  on  my  side,  or 
I was  on  Its  side,  however  you  please  to  term  it,  in  the  particu- 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


66 


iar  trouble,  and  it  always  strengthened  me  and  seemed  to  give 
me  endless  vitality  to  feel  its  underlying  and  supporting  pre- 
sence. In  fact,  it  was  an  unfailing  fountain  of  living  justice, 
truth,  and  strength,  to  which  I instinctively  turned  at  times  of 
weakness,  and  it  always  brought  me  out.  I know  now  that  it 
was  a personal  relation  I was  in  to  it,  because  of  late  years  the 
power  of  communicating  with  it  has  left  me,  and  I am  conscious 
of  a perfectly  definite  loss.  I used  never  to  fail  to  find  it  when 
I turned  to  it.  Then  came  a set  of  years  when  sometimes  I 
found  it,  and  then  again  I would  be  wholly  unable  to  make 
connection  with  it.  I remember  many  occasions  on  which  at 
night  in  bed,  I would  be  unable  to  get  to  sleep  on  account  of 
worry.  I turned  this  way  and  that  in  the  darkness,  and  groped 
mentally  for  the  familiar  sense  of  that  higher  mind  of  my  mind 
which  had  always  seemed  to  be  close  at  hand  as  it  were,  closing 
the  passage,  and  yielding  support,  but  there  was  no  electric 
current.  A blank  was  there  instead  of  It : I could  n’t  find 
anything.  Now,  at  the  age  of  nearly  fifty,  my  power  of  getting 
into  connection  with  it  has  entirely  left  me ; and  I have  to  con- 
fess that  a great  help  has  gone  out  of  my  life.  Life  has  become 
curiouslv  dead  and  indifferent ; and  I can  now  see  that  my  old 
experience  was  probably  exactly  the  same  thing  as  the  prayers 
of  the  orthodox,  only  I did  not  call  them  by  that  name.  What 
I have  spoken  of  as  ‘ It  ’ was  practically  not  Spencer’s  Un- 
knowable, but  just  my  own  instinctive  and  individual  God, 
whom  I relied  upon  for  higher  sympathy,  but  whom  somehow  I 
have  lost.” 

Nothing  is  more  common  in  the  pages  of  rehgious 
biography  than  the  way  in  which  seasons  of  lively  and 
of  difficult  faith  are  described  as  alternating.  Probably 
every  religious  person  has  the  recollection  of  particular 
crises  in  which  a directer  vision  of  the  truth,  a direct 
perception,  perhaps,  of  a hving  God’s  existence,  swept 
in  and  overwhelmed  the  languor  of  the  more  ordinary 
behef.  In  James  Russell  Lowell’s  correspondence  there 
is  a brief  memorandum  of  an  experience  of  this  kind : — ' 


66 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ I had  a revelation  last  Friday  evening.  I was  at  Mary’s, 
and  happening  to  say  something  of  the  presence  of  spirits  (of 
whom,  I said,  I was  often  dimly  aware),  Mr.  Putnam  entered 
into  an  argument  with  me  on  spiritual  matters.  As  I was 
speaking,  the  whole  system  rose  up  before  me  like  a vague 
destiny  looming  from  the  Abyss.  I never  before  so  clearly  felt 
the  Spirit  of  God  in  me  and  around  me.  The  whole  room 
seemed  to  me  full  of  God.  The  air  seemed  to  waver  to  and  fro 
with  the  presence  of  Something  I knew  not  what.  I spoke  with 
the  calmness  and  clearness  of  a prophet.  I cannot  tell  you 
what  this  revelation  was.  I have  not  yet  studied  it  enough. 
But  I shall  perfect  it  one  day,  and  then  you  shall  hear  it  and 
acknowledge  its  grandeur.”  ^ 

Here  is  a longer  and  more  developed  experience  from  a 
manuscript  communication  by  a clergyman,  — I take  it 
from  Starbuck’s  manuscript  collection  ; — 

“ I remember  the  night,  and  almost  the  very  spot  on  the  hill- 
top, where  my  soul  opened  out,  as  it  were,  into  the  Infinite, 
and  there  was  a rushing  together  of  the  two  worlds,  the  inner 
and  the  outer.  It  was  deep  calling  unto  deep,  — the  deep  that 
my  own  struggle  had  opened  up  within  being  answered  by  the 
unfathomable  deep  without,  reaching  beyond  the  stars.  I stood 
alone  with  Him  who  had  made  me,  and  all  the  beauty  of  the 
world,  and  love,  and  sorrow,  and  even  temptation.  I did  not 
seek  Him,  but  felt  the  perfect  unison  of  my  spirit  with  His.  The 
ordinary  sense  of  things  around  me  faded.  For  the  moment 
nothing  but  an  ineffable  joy  and  exaltation  remained.  It  is 
impossible  fully  to  describe  the  experience.  It  was  like  the 
effect  of  some  great  orchestra  when  all  the  separate  notes  have 
melted  into  one  swelling  harmony  that  leaves  the  listener  con- 
scious of  nothing  save  that  his  soul  is  being  wafted  upwards, 
and  almost  bursting  with  its  own  emotion.  The  perfect  stillness 
of  the  night  was  thrilled  by  a more  solemn  silence.  The  dark- 
ness held  a presence  that  was  all  the  more  felt  because  it  was 
not  seen.  I could  not  any  more  have  doubted  that  He  was 


1 Letters  of  Lowell,  i.  75. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


67 


there  than  that  I was.  Indeed,  I felt  myself  to  be,  if  possible, 
the  less  real  of  the  two. 

“ My  highest  faith  in  God  and  truest  idea  of  him  were  then 
born  in  me.  I have  stood  upon  the  Mount  of  Vision  since,  and 
felt  the  Eternal  round  about  me.  But  never  since  has  there 
come  quite  the  same  stirring  of  the  heart.  Then,  if  ever,  I 
believe,  I stood  face  to  face  with  God,  and  was  born  anew  of 
his  spirit.  There  was,  as  I recall  it,  no  sudden  change  of 
thought  or  of  belief,  except  that  my  early  crude  conception 
had,  as  it  were,  burst  into  flower.  There  was  no  destruction  of 
the  old,  but  a rapid,  wonderful  unfolding.  Since  that  time  no 
discussion  that  I have  heard  of  the  proofs  of  God’s  existence 
has  been  able  to  shake  my  faith.  Having  once  felt  the  presence 
of  God’s  spirit,  I have  never  lost  it  again  for  long.  My  most 
assuring  evidence  of  his  existence  is  deeply  rooted  in  that 
hour  of  vision,  in  the  memory  of  that  supreme  experience, 
and  in  the  conviction,  gained  from  reading  and  reflection,  that 
something  the  same  has  come  to  all  who  have  found  God. 
I am  aware  that  it  may  justly  be  called  mystical.  I am  not 
enough  acquainted  with  philosophy  to  defend  it  from  that  or 
any  other  charge.  I feel  that  in  writing  of  it  I have  overlaid 
it  with  words  rather  than  put  it  clearly  to  your  thought.  But, 
such  as  it  is,  I have  described  it  as  carefully  as  I now  am  able 
to  do.” 

Here  is  another  document,  even  more  definite  in  char- 
acter, which,  the  writer  being  a Swiss,  I translate  from 
the  French  original.^ 

“ I was  in  perfect  health  : we  were  on  our  sixth  day  of  tramp- 
ing, and  in  good  training.  We  had  come  the  day  before  from 
Sixt  to  Trient  by  Buet.  I felt  neither  fatigue,  hunger,  nor 
thirst,  and  my  state  of  mind  was  equally  healthy.  I had  had  at 
Forlaz  good  news  from  home ; I was  subject  to  no  anxiety, 
either  near  or  remote,  for  we  had  a good  guide,  and  there  was 
not  a shadow  of  uncertainty  about  the  road  we  should  follow. 
I can  best  describe  the  condition  in  which  I was  by  calling  it  a 

^ I borrow  it,  with  Professor  Flournoy’s  permission,  from  his  rich  collec* 
tion  of  psychological  documents. 


68 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


state  of  equilibrium.  When  all  at  once  I experienced  a feeling 
of  being  raised  above  myself,  I felt  the  presence  of  God  — I 
tell  of  the  thing  just  as  I was  conscious  of  it  — as  if  his  good- 
ness and  his  power  were  penetrating  me  altogether.  The  throb 
of  emotion  was  so  violent  that  I could  barely  tell  the  boys  to 
pass  on  and  not  wait  for  me.  I then  sat  down  on  a stone, 
unable  to  stand  any  longer,  and  my  eyes  overflowed  with  tears. 
I thanked  God  that  in  the  course  of  my  life  he  had  taught  me 
to  know  him,  that  he  sustained  my  life  and  took  pity  both  on 
the  insignificant  creature  and  on  the  sinner  that  I was.  I 
begged  him  ardently  that  my  life  might  be  consecrated  to  the 
doing  of  his  will.  I felt  his  reply,  which  was  that  I should  do 
his  will  from  day  to  day,  in  humility  and  poverty,  leaving  him, 
the  Almighty  God,  to  be  judge  of  whether  I should  some  time 
be  called  to  bear  witness  more  conspicuously.  Then,  slowly,  the 
ecstasy  left  my  heart ; that  is,  I felt  that  God  had  withdrawn 
the  communion  which  he  had  granted,  and  I was  able  to  walk  on, 
but  very  slowly,  so  strongly  was  I still  possessed  by  the  interior 
emotion.  Besides,  I had  wept  uninterruptedly  for  several  min- 
utes, my  eyes  were  swollen,  and  I did  not  wish  my  companions  to 
see  me.  The  state  of  ecstasy  may  have  lasted  four  or  five  min- 
utes, although  it  seemed  at  the  time  to  last  much  longer.  My 
comrades  waited  for  me  ten  minutes  at  the  cross  of  Barine,  but 
I took  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  minutes  to  join  them,  for  as 
well  as  I can  remember,  they  said  that  I had  kept  them  back  for 
about  half  an  hour.  The  impression  had  been  so  profound  that 
in  climbing  slowly  the  slope  I asked  myself  if  it  were  possible 
that  Moses  on  Sinai  could  have  had  a more  intimate  communi- 
cation with  God.  I think  it  well  to  add  that  in  this  ecstasy  of 
mine  God  had  neither  form,  color,  odor,  nor  taste ; moreover, 
that  the  feeling  of  his  presence  was  accompanied  with  no  deter- 
minate localization.  It  was  rather  as  if  my  personality  had 
been  transformed  by  the  presence  of  a spiritual  spirit.  But 
the  more  I seek  words  to  express  this  intimate  intercourse,  the 
more  I feel  the  impossibility  of  describing  the  thing  by  any  of 
our  usual  images.  At  bottom  the  expression  most  apt  to  render 
what  I felt  is  this : God  was  present,  though  invisible ; he  fell 
under  no  one  of  my  senses,  yet  my  consciousness  perceived  him.” 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


69 


The  adjective  ‘ mystical  ’ is  technically  applied,  most 
often,  to  states  that  are  of  brief  duration.  Of  course 
such  hours  of  rapture  as  the  last  two  persons  describe 
are  mystical  experiences,  of  which  in  a lat^r  lecture  I 
shall  have  much  to  say.  Meanwhile  here  is  the  abridged 
record  of  another  mystical  or  semi-mystical  experience, 
in  a mind  evidently  framed  by  nature  for  ardent  piety. 
I owe  it  to  Starbuck’s  collection.  The  lady  who  gives 
the  account  is  the  daughter  of  a man  well  known  in  his 
time  as  a writer  against  Christianity.  The  suddenness  of 
her  conversion  shows  well  how  native  the  sense  of  God’s 
presence  must  be  to  certain  minds.  She  relates  that  she 
was  brought  up  in  entire  ignorance  of  Christian  doc- 
trine, but,  when  in  Germany,  after  being  talked  to  by 
Christian  friends,  she  read  the  Bible  and  prayed,  and 
finally  the  plan  of  salvation  flashed  upon  her  like  a 
stream  of  light. 

“ To  this  day,”  she  writes,  “ I cannot  understand  dallying 
with  religion  and  the  commands  of  God.  The  very  instant  I 
heard  my  Father’s  cry  calling  unto  me,  my  heart  bounded  in 
recognition.  I ran,  I stretched  forth  my  arms,  I cried  aloud, 
‘ Here,  here  I am,  my  Father.’  Oh,  happy  child,  what  should 
I do  ? ‘ Love  me,’  answered  my  God.  ‘ I do,  I do,’  I cried 
passionately.  ‘ Come  unto  me,’  called  my  Father.  ‘ I will,’ 
my  heart  panted.  Did  I stop  to  ask  a single  question  ? Not 
one.  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  whether  I was  good 
enough,  or  to  hesitate  over  my  unfitness,  or  to  find  out  what  I 
thought  of  his  church,  or  ...  to  wait  until  I should  be  satis- 
fied. Satisfied ! I was  satisfied.  Had  I not  found  my  God 
and  my  Father?  Did  he  not  love  me?  Had  he  not  called 
me  ? Was  there  not  a Church  into  which  I might  enter  ? . . . 
Since  then  I have  had  direct  answers  to  prayer  — so  significant 
as  to  be  almost  like  talking  with  God  and  hearing  his  answer. 
The  idea  of  God’s  reality  has  never  left  me  for  one  moment.” 

Here  is  stiU  another  case,  the  writer  being  a man  aged 


70 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


twenty-seven,  in  which  the  experience,  probably  almost 
as  characteristic,  is  less  vividly  described : — 

“ I have  on  a number  of  occasions  felt  that  I had  enjoyed  a 
period  of  intimate  communion  with  the  divine.  These  meetings 
came  unasked  and  unexpected,  and  seemed  to  consist  merely  in 
the  temporary  obliteration  of  the  conventionalities  which  usually 
surround  and  cover  my  life.  . . . Once  it  was  when  from  the 
summit  of  a high  mountain  I looked  over  a gashed  and  cor- 
rugated landscape  extending  to  a long  convex  of  ocean  that 
ascended  to  the  horizon,  and  again  from  the  same  point  when  I 
could  see  nothing  beneath  me  but  a boundless  expanse  of  white 
cloud,  on  the  blown  surface  of  which  a few  high  peaks,  includ- 
ing the  one  I was  on,  seemed  plunging  about  as  if  they  were 
dragging  their  anchors.  What  I felt  on  these  occasions  was  a 
temporary  loss  of  my  own  identity,  accompanied  by  an  illumi- 
nation which  revealed  to  me  a deeper  significance  than  I had 
been  wont  to  attaeh  to  life.  It  is  in  this  that  I find  my  justifi- 
cation for  saying  that  I have  enjoyed  communication  with  God. 
Of  course  the  absence  of  such  a being  as  this  would  be  chaos. 
I cannot  conceive  of  life  without  its  presence.” 

Of  the  more  habitual  and  so  to  speak  chronic  sense  of 
God’s  presence  the  following  sample  from  Professor  Star- 
buck’s  manuscript  collection  may  serve  to  give  an  idea. 
It  is  from  a man  aged  forty-nine,  — probably  thousands 
of  unpretending  Christians  would  write  an  almost  identi- 
cal account. 

“ God  is  more  real  to  me  than  any  thought  or  thing  or  per- 
son. I feel  his  presence  positively,  and  the  more  as  I live  in 
closer  harmony  with  his  laws  as  written  in  my  body  and  mind. 
I feel  him  in  the  sunshine  or  rain  ; and  awe  mingled  with  a 
delicious  restfulness  most  nearly  describes  my  feelings.  I talk 
to  him  as  to  a companion  in  prayer  and  praise,  and  our  com- 
munion is  delightful.  He  answers  me  again  and  again,  often 
in  words  so  clearly  spoken  that  it  seems  my  outer  ear  must 
have  carried  the  tone,  but  generally  in  strong  mental  impres- 
sions. Usually  a text  of  Scripture,  unfolding  some  new  view 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


71 


of  him  and  his  love  for  me,  and  care  for  my  safety.  I could 
give  hundreds  of  instances,  in  school  matters,  social  problems, 
financial  difficulties,  etc.  That  he  is  mine  and  I am  his  never 
leaves  me,  it  is  an  abiding  joy.  Without  it  life  would  be  a 
blank,  a desert,  a shoreless,  trackless  waste.” 

I subjoin  some  more  examples  from  writers  of  different 
ages  and  sexes.  They  are  also  from  Professor  Starbuck’s 
collection,  and  their  number  might  be  greatly  multiplied. 
The  first  is  from  a man  twenty-seven  years  old : — 

“ God  is  quite  real  to  me.  I talk  to  him  and  often  get 
answers.  Thoughts  sudden  and  distinct  from  any  I have  been 
entertaining  come  to  my  mind  after  asking  God  for  his  direction. 
Something  over  a year  ago  I was  for  some  weeks  in  the  direst 
perplexity.  When  the  trouble  first  appeared  before  me  I was 
dazed,  but  before  long  (two  or  three  hours)  I could  hear  dis- 
tinctly a passage  of  Scripture : ‘ My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee.’  Every  time  my  thoughts  turned  to  the  trouble  I could 
hear  this  quotation.  I don’t  think  I ever  doubted  the  existence 
of  God,  or  had  him  drop  out  of  my  consciousness.  God  has 
frequently  stepped  into  my  affairs  very  perceptibly,  and  I feel 
that  he  directs  many  little  details  all  the  time.  But  on  two  or 
three  occasions  he  has  ordered  ways  for  me  very  contrary  to  my 
ambitions  and  plans.” 

Another  statement  (none  the  less  valuable  psychologi- 
cally for  being  so  decidedly  childish)  is  that  of  a boy  of 
seventeen : — 

“ Sometimes  as  I go  to  church,  I sit  down,  join  in  the  ser- 
vice, and  before  I go  out  I feel  as  if  God  was  with  me,  right 
side  of  me,  singing  and  reading  the  Psalms  with  me.  . . . And 
then  again  I feel  as  if  I could  sit  beside  him,  and  put  my  arms 
around  him,  kiss  him,  etc.  When  I am  taking  Holy  Commun- 
ion at  the  altar,  I try  to  get  with  him  and  generally  feel  his 
presence.” 

I let  a few  other  cases  follow  at  random : — 

“ God  surrounds  me  like  the  physical  atmosphere.  He  is 


72 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


closer  to  me  than  my  own  breath.  In  him  literally  I live  and 
move  and  have  my  being.”  — 

“ There  are  times  when  I seem  to  stand  in  his  very  presence, 
to  talk  with  him.  Answers  to  prayer  have  come,  sometimes 
direct  and  overwhelming  in  their  revelation  of  his  presence  and 
powers.  There  are  times  when  God  seems  far  off,  but  this  is 
always  my  own  fault.”  — 

“ I have  the  sense  of  a presence,  strong,  and  at  the  same  time 
soothing,  which  hovers  over  me.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  enwrap 
me  with  sustaining  arms.” 

Such  is  the  human  ontological  imagination,  and  such 
is  the  convincingness  of  what  it  brings  to  birth.  Unpic* 
turable  beings  are  realized,  and  realized  with  an  intensity 
almost  like  that  of  an  hallucination.  They  determine 
our  vital  attitude  as  decisively  as  the  vital  attitude  of 
lovers  is  determined  by  the  habitual  sense,  by  which  each 
is  haunted,  of  the  other  being  in  the  world.  A lover  has 
notoriously  this  sense  of  the  continuous  being  of  his 
idol,  even  when  his  attention  is  addressed  to  other  mat- 
ters and  he  no  longer  represents  her  features.  He  can- 
not forget  her  ; she  uninterruptedly  affects  him  through 
and  through. 

I spoke  of  the  convincingness  of  these  feelings  of 
reality,  and  I must  dwell  a moment  longer  on  that  point. 

• They  are  as  convincing  to  those  who  have  them  as  any 
direct  sensible  experiences  can  be,  and  they  are,  as  a rule, 
much  more  convincing  than  results  established  by  mere 
logic  ever  are.  One  may  indeed  be  entirely  without 
them  ; probably  more  than  one  of  you  here  present  is 
without  them  in  any  marked  degree ; but  if  you  do  have 
them,  and  have  them  at  all  strongly,  the  probability  is 
that  you  cannot  help  regarding  them  as  genuine  percep- 
tions of  truth,  as  revelations  of  a kind  of  reality  which 
no  adverse  argument,  however  unanswerable  by  you  in 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN  -fS 

words,  can  expel  from  your  belief.  The  opinion  opposed 
to  mysticism  in  philosophy  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as 
rationalism.  Rationalism  insists  that  all  our  behefs 
ought  ultimately  to  find  for  themselves  articulate  grounds. 
Such  grounds,  for  rationalism,  must  consist  of  four 
things  : (1)  definitely  statable  abstract  principles ; (2)  defi- 
nite facts  of  sensation  ; (3)  definite  hypotheses  based  on 
such  facts  ; and  (4)  definite  inferences  logically  drawn. 
Vague  impressions  of  something  indefinable  have  no 
place  in  the  rationalistic  system,  which  on  its  positive 
side  is  surely  a splendid  intellectual  tendency,  for  not 
only  are  all  our  philosophies  fruits  of  it,  but  physical 
science  (amongst  other  good  things)  is  its  result. 

Nevertheless,  if  we  look  on  man’s  whole  mental  life  as 
it  exists,  on  the  life  of  men  that  lies  in  them  apart  from 
their  learning  and  science,  and  that  they  inwardly  and 
privately  follow,  we  have  to  confess  that  the  part  of  it  of 
which  rationalism  can  give  an  account  is  relatively  super- 
ficial. It  is  the  part  that  has  the  prestige  undoubtedly, 
for  it  has  the  loquacity,  it  can  challenge  you  for  proofs, 
and  chop  logic,  and  put  you  down  with  words.  But  it 
will  fail  to  convince  or  convert  you  all  the  same,  if  your 
dumb  intuitions  are  opposed  to  its  conclusions.  If  you 
have  intuitions  at  all,  they  come  from  a deeper  level  of 
your  nature  than  the  loquacious  level  which  rationalism 
inhabits.  Your  whole  subconscious  life,  your  impulses, 
your  faiths,  your  needs,  your  divinations,  have  prepared 
the  premises,  of  which  your  consciousness  now  feels  the 
weight  of  the  result ; and  something  in  you  absolutely 
knows  that  that  result  must  be  truer  than  any  logic- 
chopping rationalistic  talk,  however  clever,  that  may  con- 
tradict it.  This  inferiority  of  the  rationalistic  level  in 
founding  belief  is  just  as  manifest  when  rationalism 
argues  for  religion  as  when  it  argues  against  it.  That 


74 


THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


vast  literature  of  proofs  of  God’s  existence  drawn  from 
the  order  of  nature,  which  a century  ago  seemed  so  over- 
whelmingly  convincing,  to-day  does  httle  more  than 
gather  dust  in  libraries,  for  the  simple  reason  that  our 
generation  has  ceased  to  believe  in  the  kind  of  God  it 
argued  for.  Whatever  sort  of  a being  God  may  be,  we 
know  to-day  that  he  is  nevermore  that  mere  external 
inventor  of  ‘ contrivances  ’ intended  to  make  manifest  his 
‘ glory  ’ in  which  our  great-grandfathers  took  such  satis- 
faction, though  just  how  we  know  this  we  cannot  possi- 
bly make  clear  by  words  either  to  others  or  to  ourselves. 
I defy  any  of  you  here  fully  to  account  for  your  persua- 
sion that  if  a God  exist  he  must  be  a more  cosmic  and 
tragic  personage  than  that  Being. 

The  truth  is  that  in  the  metaphysical  and  religious 
sphere,  articulate  reasons  are  cogent  for  us  only  when 
our  inarticulate  feelings  of  reality  have  already  been 
impressed  in  favor  of  the  same  conclusion.  Then,  indeed, 
our  intuitions  and  our  reason  work  together,  and  great 
world-ruling  systems,  like  that  of  the  Buddhist  or  of  the 
Catholic  philosophy,  may  grow  up.  Our  impulsive  belief 
is  here  always  what  sets  up  the  original  body  of  truth, 
and  oirr  articulately  verbahzed  philosophy  is  but  its  showy 
translation  into  formulas.  The  unreasoned  and  immedk 
ate  assurance  is  the  deep  thing  in  us,  the  reasoned  argu- 
ment is  but  a surface  exhibition.  Instinct  leads,  intelli- 
gence does  but  follow.  If  a person  feels  the  presence  of 
a living  God  after  the  fashion  shown  by  my  quotations, 
your  critical  argiunents,  be  they  never  so  superior,  wiU 
vainly  set  themselves  to  change  his  faith. 

Please  observe,  however,  that  I do  not  yet  say  that  it  is 
better  that  the  subconscious  and  non-rational  should  thus 
hold  primacy  in  the  religious  realm.  I confine  myself  to 
simply  pointing  out  that  they  do  so  hold  it  as  a.  matter  of 
fact. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


75 


So  much  for  our  sense  of  the  reality  of  the  religious 
objects.  Let  me  now  say  a brief  word  more  about  the 
attitudes  they  characteristically  awaken. 

We  have  already  agreed  that  they  are  solemn  ; and  we 
have  seen  reason  to  think  that  the  most  distinctive  of 
them  is  the  sort  of  joy  which  may  result  in  extreme  cases 
from  absolute  self-surrender.  The  sense  of  the  kind  of 
object  to  which  the  surrender  is  made  has  much  to  do 
with  determining  the  precise  complexion  of  the  joy ; and 
the  whole  phenomenon  is  more  complex  than  any  simple 
formula  allows.  In  the  literature  of  the  subject,  sadness 
and  gladness  have  each  been  emphasized  in  turn.  The 
ancient  saying  that  the  first  maker  of  the  Gods  was  fear 
receives  voluminous  corroboration  from  every  age  of 
religious  history  ; but  none  the  less  does  religious  his- 
tory show  the  part  which  joy  has  evermore  tended  to 
play.  Sometimes  the  joy  has  been  primary ; sometimes 
secondary,  being  the  gladness  of  dehverance  from  the 
fear.  This  latter  state  of  things,  bemg  the  more  com- 
plex, is  also  the  more  complete  ; and  as  we  proceed,  I 
think  we  shall  have  abundant  reason  for  refusing  to 
leave  out  either  the  sadness  or  the  gladness,  if  we  look 
at  religion  with  the  breadth  of  view  which  it  demands. 
Stated  in  the  completest  possible  terms,  a man’s  religion 
involves  both  moods  of  contraction  and  moods  of  ex- 
pansion of  his  being.  But  the  quantitative  mixture  and 
order  of  these  moods  vary  so  much  from  one  age  of  the 
world,  from  one  system  of  thought,  and  from  one  indi- 
vidual to  another,  that  you  may  insist  either  on  the  dread 
and  the  submission,  or  on  the  peace  and  the  freedom  as  the 
essence  of  the  matter,  and  stiU  remain  materially  within 
the  limits  of  the  truth.  The  constitutionally  sombre  and 
the  constitutionally  sanguine  onlooker  are  bound  to  em* 
phasize  opposite  aspects  of  what  hes  before  their  eyes. 


76 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


The  constitutionally  sombre  religious  person  makes 
even  of  his  rehgious  peace  a very  sober  thing.  Danger 
still  hovers  in  the  air  about  it.  Flexion  and  contraction 
are  not  wholly  checked.  It  were  sparrowlike  and  child- 
ish after  our  deliverance  to  explode  into  twittering  laugh- 
ter and  caper-cutting,  and  utterly  to  forget  the  imminent 
hawk  on  bough.  Lie  low,  rather,  lie  low ; for  you  are 
in  the  hands  of  a living  God.  In  the  Book  of  Job,  for 
example,  the  impotence  of  man  and  the  omnipotence  of 
God  is  the  exclusive  burden  of  its  author’s  mind.  “ It 
is  as  high  as  heaven ; what  canst  thou  do  ? — deeper 
than  hell ; what  canst  thou  know  ? ” There  is  an  astrin- 
gent relish  about  the  truth  of  this  conviction  which  some 
men  can  feel,  and  which  for  them  is  as  near  an  approach 
as  can  be  made  to  the  feeling  of  religious  joy. 

“ In  Job,”  says  that  coldly  truthful  writer,  the  author  of 
Mark  Rutherford,  “ God  reminds  us  that  man  is  not  the  mea- 
sure of  his  creation.  The  world  is  immense,  constructed  on 
no  plan  or  theory  which  the  intellect  of  man  can  grasp.  It  is 
transcendent  everywhere.  This  is  the  burden  of  every  verse, 
and  is  the  secret,  if  there  be  one,  of  the  poem.  Sufficient  or 
insufficient,  there  is  nothing  more.  . . . God  is  great,  we  know 
not  his  ways.  He  takes  from  us  all  we  have,  but  yet  if  we  pos- 
sess our  souls  in  patience,  we  may  pass  the  valley  of  the  shadow, 
and  come  out  in  sunlight  again.  We  may  or  we  may  not! 
. . . What  more  have  we  to  say  now  than  God  said  from  the 
whirlwind  over  two  thousand  five  hundred  years  ago  ? ” ^ 

If  we  turn  to  the  sanguine  onlooker,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  find  that  deliverance  is  felt  as  incomplete  unless  the 
burden  be  altogether  overcome  and  the  danger  forgotten. 
Such  onlookers  give  us  definitions  that  seem  to  the  som- 
bre minds  of  whom  we  have  just  been  speaking  to  leave 
out  all  the  solemnity  that  makes  religious  peace  so  differ- 
ent from  merely  animal  joys.  In  the  opinion  of  some 
* Mark  Rutherford’s  Deliverance,  Loudon,  1885,  pp.  196,  198. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  UNSEEN 


77 


writers  an  attitude  might  be  called  religious,  though  no 
touch  were  left  in  it  of  sacrifice  or  submission,  no  tend- 
ency to  flexion,  no  bowing  of  the  head.  Any  “ habitual 
and  regulated  admiration,”  says  Professor  J.-  R.  Seeley,^ 
“ is  worthy  to  be  called  a religion  ” ; and  accordingly  he 
thinks  that  our  Music,  our  Science,  and  our  so-called 
‘ Civilization,’  as  these  things  are  now  organized  and 
admiringly  believed  in,  form  the  more  genuine  religions 
of  our  time.  Certainly  the  unhesitating  and  unreasoning 
way  in  which  we  feel  that  we  must  inflict  our  civilization 
upon  ‘ lower  ’ races,  by  means  of  Hotchkiss  guns,  etc., 
reminds  one  of  nothing  so  much  as  of  the  early  spirit  of 
Islam  spreading  its  religion  by  the  sword. 

In  my  last  lecture  I quoted  to  you  the  ultra-radical 
opinion  of  Mr.  Havelock  Ellis,  that  laughter  of  any  sort 
may  be  considered  a religious  exercise,  for  it  bears  wit- 
ness to  the  soul’s  emancipation.  I quoted  this  opinion  in 
order  to  deny  its  adequacy.  But  we  must  now  settle  our 
scores  more  carefully  with  this  whole  optimistic  way  of 
thinking.  It  is  far  too  complex  to  be  decided  off-hand. 
I propose  accordingly  that  we  make  of  religious  optimism 
the  theme  of  the  next  two  lectures. 

1 In  his  book  (too  little  read,  I fear),  Natural  Religion,  3d  edition, 
Boston,  1886,  pp.  91, 122. 


LECTURES  IV  AND  V 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 

IF  we  were  to  ask  the  question  : ‘ What  is  human 
life’s  chief  concern  ? ’ one  of  the  answers  we  should 
receive  would  be  : ‘It  is  happiness.’  How  to  gain,  how 
to  keep,  how  to  recover  happiness,  is  in  fact  for  most 
men  at  all  times  the  secret  motive  of  all  they  do,  and  of 
all  they  are  willing  to  endure.  The  hedonistic  school  in 
ethics  deduces  the  moral  life  wholly  from  the  experiences 
of  happiness  and  unhappiness  which  different  kinds  of 
conduct  bring ; and,  even  more  in  the  religious  life  than 
in  the  moral  life,  happiness  and  unhappiness  seem  to  be 
the  poles  round  which  the  interest  revolves.  We  need 
not  go  so  far  as  to  say  with  the  author  whom  I lately 
quoted  that  any  persistent  enthusiasm  is,  as  such,  reli- 
gion, nor  need  we  call  mere  laughter  a religious  exercise ; 
but  we  must  admit  that  any  persistent  enjoyment  may 
produce  the  sort  of  religion  which  consists  in  a grateful 
admiration  of  the  gift  of  so  happy  an  existence ; and  we 
must  also  acknowledge  that  the  more  complex  ways  of 
experiencing  religion  are  new  manners  of  producing  hap- 
piness, wonderful  inner  paths  to  a supernatural  kind 
of  happiness,  when  the  first  gift  of  natural  existence  is 
unhappy,  as  it  so  often  proves  itself  to  be. 

With  such  relations  between  religion  and  happiness,  it 
is  perhaps  not  surprising  that  men  come  to  regard  the 
happiness  which  a rehgious  behef  affords  as  a proof  of 
its  truth.  If  a creed  makes  a man  feel  happy,  he  almost 
inevitably  adopts  it.  Such  a belief  ought  to  be  true  j 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


79 


therefore  it  is  true — such,  rightly  or  wrongly,  is  one 
of  the  ‘ immediate  inferences  ’ of  the  religious  logic  used 
by  ordinary  men. 

“ The  near  presence  of  God’s  spirit,”  says  a German  writer,^ 
“ may  be  experienced  in  its  reality  — indeed  only  experienced. 
And  the  mark  by  which  the  spirit’s  existence  and  nearness  are 
made  irrefutably  clear  to  those  who  have  ever  had  the  expe- 
rience is  the  utterly  incomparable of  happiness  which  is 
connected  with  the  nearness,  and  which  is  therefore  not  only  a 
possible  and  altogether  proper  feeling  for  us  to  have  here  below, 
but  is  the  best  and  most  indispensable  proof  of  God’s  reality. 
No  other  proof  is  equally  convincing,  and  therefore  happiness 
is  the  point  from  which  every  efficacious  new  theology  should 
start.” 

In  the  hour  immediately  before  us,  I shall  invite  you 
to  consider  the  simpler  kinds  of  rehgious  happiness,  leav- 
ing the  more  complex  sorts  to  be  treated  on  a later  day. 

In  many  persons,  happiness  is  congenital  and  irre- 
claimable. ‘ Cosmic  emotion  ’ inevitably  takes  in  them 
the  form  of  enthusiasm  and  freedom.  I speak  not  only 
of  those  who  are  animally  happy.  I mean  those  who, 
when  imhappiness  is  offered  or  proposed  to  them,  posi- 
tively refuse  to  feel  it,  as  if  it  were  something  mean  and 
wrong.  We  find  such  persons  in  every  age,  passionately 
flinging  themselves  upon  their  sense  of  the  goodness 
of  fife,  in  spite  of  the  hardships  of  their  own  condition, 
and  in  spite  of  the  sinister  theologies  into  which  they 
may  be  born.  From  the  outset  their  religion  is  one  of 
union  with  the  divine.  The  heretics  who  went  before  the 
reformation  are  lavishly  accused  by  the  church  writers 
of  antinomian  practices,  just  as  the  first  Christians  were 
accused  of  indulgence  in  orgies  by  the  Romans.  It  is 
probable  that  there  never  has  been  a century  in  which  the 
dehberate  refusal  to  think  ill  of  life  has  not  been  ideal* 

^ C.  Hilty  : GlUck,  dritter  Theil,  1900,  p.  18. 


80  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ized  by  a sufficient  number  of  persons  to  form  sects,  open 
or  secret,  who  claimed  all  natural  things  to  be  permitted. 
Saint  Augustine’s  maxim,  Dllige  et  quod  visfac, — if  you 
but  love  [God],  you  may  do  as  you  inchue,  — is  morally 
one  of  the  profoundest  of  observations,  yet  it  is  pregnant, 
for  such  persons,  with  passports  beyond  the  bounds  of 
conventional  morality.  According  to  their  characters 
they  have  been  refined  or  gross ; but  their  belief  has 
been  at  all  times  systematic  enough  to  constitute  a defi- 
nite religious  attitude.  God  was  for  them  a giver  of 
freedom,  and  the  sting  of  evil  was  overcome.  Saint  Fran- 
cis and  his  immediate  disciples  were,  on  the  whole,  of 
this  company  of  spirits,  of  which  there  are  of  course  infi- 
nite varieties.  Rousseau  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  writ- 
ing, Diderot,  B.  de  Saint  Pierre,  and  many  of  the  leaders 
of  the  eighteenth  century  anti-christian  movement  were 
of  this  optimistic  type.  They  owed  their  influence  to  a 
certain  authoritativeness  in  their  feehng  that  Nature,  if 
you  will  only  trust  her  sufficiently,  is  absolutely  good. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  we  all  have  some  friend,  perhaps 
more  often  feminine  than  masculine,  and  young  than  old, 
whose  soul  is  of  this  sky-blue  tint,  whose  affinities  are 
rather  with  flowers  and  birds  and  all  enchanting  inno- 
cencies  than  with  dark  human  passions,  who  can  think 
no  ill  of  man  or  God,  and  in  whom  religious  gladness, 
being  in  possession  from  the  outset,  needs  no  deliverance 
from  any  antecedent  burden. 

“ God  has  two  families  of  children  on  this  earth,”  says  Fran- 
cis W.  Newman,^  “ the  once-horn  and  the  twice-horn'’’  and  the 
once-born  he  describes  as  follows : “ They  see  God,  not  as  a 
strict  J udge,  not  as  a Glorious  Potentate  ; but  as  the  animating 
Spirit  of  a beautiful  harmonious  world.  Beneficent  and  Kind, 
Merciful  as  well  as  Pure.  The  same  characters  generally  have 

1 The  Soul ; its  Sorrows  and  its  Aspirations,  3d  edition,  1852,  pp.  89, 91. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


81 


no  metaphysical  tendencies : they  do  not  look  back  into  them- 
selves. Hence  they  are  not  distressed  by  their  own  imperfec- 
tions : yet  it  would  be  absurd  to  call  them  self-righteous ; for 
they  hardly  think  of  themselves  at  all.  This  childlike  quality 
of  their  nature  makes  the  opening  of  religion  very  happy  to 
them : for  they  no  more  shrink  from  God,  than  a child  from  an 
emperor,  before  whom  the  parent  trembles ; in  fact,  they  have 
no  vivid  conception  of  any  of  the  qualities  in  which  the  severer 
Majesty  of  God  consists.^  He  is  to  them  the  impersonation 
of  Kindness  and  Beauty.  They  read  his  character,  not  in 
the  disordered  world  of  man,  but  in  romantic  and  harmonious 
nature.  Of  human  sin  they  know  perhaps  little  in  their  own 
hearts  and  not  very  much  in  the  world ; and  human  suffering 
does  but  melt  them  to  tenderness.  Thus,  when  they  approach 
God,  no  inward  disturbance  ensues ; and  without  being  as  yet 
spiritual,  they  have  a certain  complacency  and  perhaps  romantic 
sense  of  excitement  in  their  simple  worship.” 

In  the  Romish  Church  such  characters  find  a more 
congenial  soil  to  grow  in  than  in  Protestantism,  whose 
fashions  of  feeling  have  been  set  by  minds  of  a decidedly 
pessimistic  order.  But  even  in  Protestantism  they  have 
been  abundant  enough ; and  in  its  recent  ‘ hberal  ’ de- 
velopments of  Unitarianism  and  latitudinarianism  gener- 
ally, minds  of  this  order  have  played  and  still  are  playing 
leading  and  constructive  parts.  Emerson  himself  is  an 
admirable  example.  Theodore  Parker  is  another,  — here 
are  a couple  of  characteristic  passages  from  Parker’s  cor- 
respondence.^ 

“ Orthodox  scholars  say : ‘ In  the  heathen  classics  you  find  no 
consciousness  of  sin.’  It  is  very  true  — God  be  thanked  for  it. 
They  were  conscious  of  wrath,  of  cruelty,  avarice,  drunkenness, 
lust,  sloth,  cowardice,  and  other  actual  vices,  and  struggled 
and  got  rid  of  the  deformities,  but  they  were  not  conscious  of 

^ I once  heard  a lady  describe  the  pleasure  it  gave  her  to  think  that  she 
“ could  always  cuddle  up  to  God.” 

* John  Weiss  : Life  of  Theodore  Parker,  i.  152,  32. 


82 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


‘ enmity  against  God,’  and  did  n’t  sit  down  and  whine  and  groan 
against  non-existent  evil.  I have  done  wrong  things  enough  in 
my  life,  and  do  them  now ; I miss  the  mark,  draw  bow,  and 
try  again.  But  I am  not  conscious  of  hating  God,  or  man,  or 
right,  or  love,  and  I know  there  is  much  ‘ health  in  me  ’ ; and  in 
my  body,  even  now,  there  dwelleth  many  a good  thing,  spite  of 
consumption  and  Saint  Paul.”  In  another  letter  Parker  writes  : 
“ I have  swum  in  clear  sweet  waters  all  my  days ; and  if 
sometimes  they  were  a little  cold,  and  the  stream  ran  adverse 
and  something  rough,  it  was  never  too  strong  to  be  breasted  and 
swum  through.  From  the  days  of  earliest  boyhood,  when  I 
went  stumbling  through  the  grass,  ...  up  to  the  gray-bearded 
manhood  of  this  time,  there  is  none  but  has  left  me  honey  in 
the  hive  of  memory  that  I now  feed  on  for  present  delight. 
When  I recall  the  years  ...  I am  filled  with  a sense  of  sweet- 
ness and  wonder  that  such  little  things  can  make  a mortal  so 
exceedingly  rich.  But  I must  confess  that  the  chiefest  of  all 
my  delights  is  still  the  religious.” 

Another  good  expression  of  the  ‘ once-born  ’ type  of 
consciousness,  developing  straight  and  natural,  with  no 
element  of  morbid  compunction  or  crisis,  is  contained  in 
the  answer  of  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  the  eminent 
Unitarian  preacher  and  writer,  to  one  of  Dr.  Starbuck’s 
circidars.  I quote  a part  of  it : — 

“ I observe,  with  profound  regret,  the  religious  struggles 
which  come  into  many  biographies,  as  if  almost  essential  to 
the  formation  of  the  hero.  I ought  to  speak  of  these,  to  say 
that  any  man  has  an  advantage,  not  to  be  estimated,  who  is 
born,  as  I was,  into  a family  where  the  religion  is  simple  and 
rational ; who  is  trained  in  the  theory  of  such  a religion,  so  that 
he  never  knows,  for  an  hour,  what  these  religious  or  irreligious 
struggles  are.  I always  knew  God  loved  me,  and  I was  always 
grateful  to  him  for  the  world  he  placed  me  in.  I always  liked 
to  tell  him  so,  and  was  always  glad  to  receive  his  suggestions  to 
me.  ...  I can  remember  perfectly  that  when  I was  coming  to 
manhood,  the  half-philosophical  novels  of  the  time  had  a deal 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


83 


to  say  about  the  young  men  and  maidens  who  were  facing  the 
‘ problem  of  life.’  I had  no  idea  whatever  what  the  problem 
of  life  was.  To  live  with  all  my  might  seemed  to  me  easy  ; to 
learn  where  there  was  so  much  to  learn  seemed  pleasant  and 
almost  of  course  ; to  lend  a hand,  if  one  had  a chance,  natu- 
ral ; and  if  one  did  this,  why,  he  enjoyed  life  because  he  could 
not  help  it,  and  without  proving  to  himself  that  he  ought  to  en- 
joy it.  ...  A child  who  is  early  taught  that  he  is  God’s  child, 
that  he  may  live  and  move  and  have  his  being  in  God,  and  that 
he  has,  therefore,  infinite  strength  at  hand  for  the  conquering 
of  any  difficulty,  will  take  life  more  easily,  and  probably  will 
make  more  of  it,  than  one  who  is  told  that  he  is  born  the  child 
of  wrath  and  wholly  incapable  of  good.”  ^ 

One  can  but  recognize  in  such  vi^riters  as  these  the 
presence  of  a temperament  organically  weighted  on  the 
side  of  cheer  and  fatally  forbidden  to  linger,  as  those  of 
opposite  temperament  linger,  over  the  darker  aspects  of 
the  universe.  In  some  individuals  optimism  may  be- 
come quasi-pathological.  The  capacity  for  even  a tran- 
sient sadness  or  a momentary  humility  seems  cut  off 
from  them  as  by  a kind  of  congenital  anaesthesia.^ 

^ Starbuck  ; Psychology  of  Religion,  pp.  305,  306. 

“ I know  not  to  what  physical  laws  philosophers  will  some  day  refer  the 
feelings  of  melancholy.  For  myself,  I find  that  they  are  the  most  volup- 
tuous of  all  sensations,”  writes  Saint  Pierre,  and  accordingly  he  devotes  a 
series  of  sections  of  his  work  on  Nature  to  the  Plaisirs  de  la  Ruine,  Plaisirs 
des  Tombeaux,  Ruines  de  la  Nature,  Plaisirs  de  la  Solitude  — each  of  them 
more  optimistic  than  the  last. 

This  finding  of  a luxury  in  woe  is  very  common  during  adolescence.  The 
truth-telling  Marie  Bashkirtseff  expresses  it  well : — 

“In  this  depression  and  dreadful  uninterrupted  suffering,  I don’t  con- 
demn life.  On  the  contrary,  I like  it  and  find  it  good.  Can  you  believe  it  ? 
I find  everything  good  and  pleasant,  even  my  tears,  my  grief.  I enjoy 
weeping,  I enjoy  my  despair.  I enjoy  being  exasperated  and  sad.  I feel 
as  if  these  were  so  many  diversions,  and  I love  life  in  spite  of  them  all.  I 
want  to  live  on.  It  would  be  cruel  to  have  me  die  when  I am  so  accommo- 
dating. I cry,  I grieve,  and  at  the  same  time  I am  pleased  — no,  not 
exactly  that  — I know  not  how  to  express  it.  But  everything  in  life  pleases 
me.  I find  everything  agreeable,  and  in  the  very  midst  of  my  prayers  for 


84 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


The  supreme  contemporary  example  of  such  an  inabil- 
ity to  feel  evil  is  of  course  Walt  Whitman. 

“ His  favorke  occupation,”  writes  his  disciple,  Dr.  Bucke, 
“ seemed  to  be  strolling  or  sauntering  about  outdoors  by  him- 
self, looking  at  the  grass,  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  vistas  of 
light,  the  varying  aspects  of  the  sky,  and  listening  to  the  birds, 
the  crickets,  the  tree  frogs,  and  all  the  hundreds  of  natural 
sounds.  It  was  evident  that  these  things  gave  him  a pleasure 
far  beyond  what  they  give  to  ordinary  people.  Until  I knew 
the  man,”  continues  Dr.  Bucke,  “ it  had  not  occurred  to  me 
that  any  one  could  derive  so  much  absolute  happiness  from 
these  things  as  he  did.  He  was  very  fond  of  flowers,  either  wild 
or  cultivated ; liked  all  sorts.  I think  he  admired  lilacs  and 
sunflowers  just  as  much  as  roses.  Perhaps,  indeed,  no  man 
who  ever  lived  liked  so  many  things  and  disliked  so  few  as 
Walt  Whitman.  All  natural  objects  seemed  to  have  a charm 
for  him.  All  sights  and  sounds  seemed  to  please  him.  He 
appeared  to  like  (and  I believe  he  did  like)  all  the  men,  women, 
and  children  he  saw  (though  I never  knew  him  to  say  that  he 
liked  any  one),  but  each  who  knew  him  felt  that  he  liked  him 
or  her,  and  that  he  liked  others  also.  I never  knew  him  to  argue 
or  dispute,  and  he  never  spoke  about  money.  He  always  justi- 
fied, sometimes  playfully,  sometimes  quite  seriously,  those  who 
spoke  harshly  of  himself  or  his  writings,  and  I often  thought 
he  even  took  pleasure  in  the  opposition  of  enemies.  When  I 
first  knew  [him],  I used  to  think  that  he  watched  himself,  and 
would  not  allow  his  tongue  to  give  expression  to  fretfulness,  an- 
tipathy, complaint,  and  remonstrance.  It  did  not  occur  to  me 
as  possible  that  these  mental  states  could  be  absent  in  him. 
After  long  observation,  however,  I satisfied  myself  that  such 
absence  or  unconsciousness  was  entirely  real.  He  never  spoke 
deprecatingly  of  any  nationality  or  class  of  men,  or  time  in  the 
world’s  history,  or  against  any  trades  or  occupations — not  even 
against  any  animals,  insects,  or  inanimate  things,  nor  any  of  the 

happiness,  I find  myself  happy  at  being  miserable.  It  Is  not  I who  undergo 
all  this  — my  body  weeps  and  cries  ; but  something  inside  of  me  which  is 
above  me  is  glad  of  it  all.”  Journal  de  Marie  Basbkirtseff,  i.  67. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


85 


laws  of  nature,  nor  any  of  the  results  of  those  laws,  such  as  ill- 
ness, deformity,  and  death.  He  never  complained  or  grumbled 
either  at  the  weather,  pain,  illness,  or  anything  else.  He  never 
swore.  He  could  not  very  well,  since  he  never  spoke  in  anger 
and  apparently  never  was  angry.  He  never  exhibited  fear,  and 
I do  not  believe  he  ever  felt  it.”  ^ 

Walt  Whitman  owes  his  importance  in  literature  to  the 
systematic  expulsion  from  his  writings  of  all  contractile 
elements.  The  only  sentiments  he  allowed  himself  to 
express  were  of  the  expansive  order ; and  he  expressed 
these  in  the  first  person,  not  as  your  mere  monstrously 
conceited  individual  might  so  express  them,  but  vicari- 
ously for  all  men,  so  that  a passionate  and  mystic  ontolo- 
gical emotion  suffuses  his  words,  and  ends  by  persuading 
the  reader  that  men  and  women,  life  and  death,  and  aU 
things  are  divinely  good. 

Thus  it  has  come  about  that  many  persons  to-day 
regard  Walt  Whitman  as  the  restorer  of  the  eternal  natu- 
ral religion.  He  has  infected  them  with  his  own  love  of 
comrades,  with  his  own  gladness  that  he  and  they  exist. 
Societies  are  actually  formed  for  his  cult ; a periodical 
organ  exists  for  its  propagation,  in  which  the  lines  of 
orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy  are  already  beginning  to  be 
drawn  ; ^ hymns  are  written  by  others  in  his  peculiar 
prosody  ; and  he  is  even  explicitly  compared  with  the 
founder  of  the  Christian  religion,  not  altogether  to  the 
advantage  of  the  latter. 

Whitman  is  often  spoken  of  as  a ‘ pagan.'  The  word 
nowadays  means  sometimes  the  mere  natural  animal  man 
without  a sense  of  sin  ; sometimes  it  means  a Greek  or 
Roman  with  his  own  peculiar  religious  consciousness.  In 

^ R.  M.  Bucke  : Cosmic  Consciousness,  pp.  182-186,  abridged. 

^ I refer  to  The  Conservator,  edited  by  Horace  Traubel,  and  published 
monthly  at  Philadelphia. 


86 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


neither  of  these  senses  does  it  fitly  define  this  poet.  He 
is  more  than  your  mere  animal  man  who  has  not  tasted 
of  the  tree  of  good  and  evil.  He  is  aware  enough  of  sin 
for  a swagger  to  be  present  in  his  indifference  towards  it, 
a conscious  pride  in  his  freedom  from  flexions  and  con- 
tractions, which  your  genuine  pagan  in  the  first  sense  of 
the  word  would  never  show. 

“ I eould  turn  and  live  with  animals,  they  are  so  placid  and  self-contained, 
I stand  and  look  at  them  long  and  long  ; 

They  do  not  sweat  and  whine  about  their  condition. 

They  do  not  lie  awake  in  the  dark  and  weep  for  their  sins. 

Not  one  is  dissatisfied,  not  one  is  demented  with  the  mania  of  owning 
things. 

Not  one  kneels  to  another,  nor  to  his  kind  that  lived  thousands  of  years 
ago. 

Not  one  is  respectable  or  unhappy  over  the  whole  earth.”  ^ 

No  natural  pagan  could  have  written  these  well-known 
lines.  But  on  the  other  hand  Whitman  is  less  than  a 
Greek  or  Roman  ; for  their  consciousness,  even  in  Ho- 
meric times,  was  full  to  the  brim  of  the  sad  mortality 
of  this  sunlit  world,  and  such  a consciousness  W alt  Whit- 
man resolutely  refuses  to  adopt.  When,  for  example, 
Achilles,  about  to  slay  Lycaon,  Priam’s  young  son,  hears 
him  sue  for  mercy,  he  stops  to  say  : — 

“ Ah,  friend,  thou  too  must  die : why  thus  lamentest  thou  ? 
Patroclos  too  is  dead,  who  was  better  far  than  thou.  . . . 
Over  me  too  hang  death  and  forceful  fate.  There  cometh  morn 
or  eve  or  some  noonday  when  my  life  too  some  man  shall  take 
in  battle,  whether  with  spear  he  smite,  or  arrow  from  the 
string.” 

Then  Achilles  savagely  severs  the  poor  boy’s  neck  with 
his  sword,  heaves  him  by  the  foot  into  the  Scamander, 
and  calls  to  the  fishes  of  the  river  to  eat  the  white  fat  of 
Lycaon.  Just  as  here  the  cruelty  and  the  sympathy  each 

^ Song  of  Myself,  32. 

* Iliad,  XXI.,  E.  Myers’s  translation. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS  87 

ring  true,  and  do  not  mix  or  interfere  with  one  another, 
so  did  the  Greeks  and  Romans  keep  all  their  sadnesses  and 
gladnesses  unmingled  and  entire.  Instinctive  good  they 
did  not  reckon  sin  ; nor  had  they  any  such  desire  to  save 
the  credit  of  the  universe  as  to  make  them  insist,  as  so 
many  of  us  insist,  that  what  immediately  appears  as  evil 
must  be  ‘ good  in  the  making,’  or  something  equally  in- 
genious. Good  was  good,  and  bad  just  bad,  for  the  earlier 
Greeks.  They  neither  denied  the  ills  of  natm-e,  — Walt 
Whitman’s  verse,  ‘ What  is  called  good  is  perfect  and 
what  is  called  bad  is  just  as  perfect,’  would  have  been 
mere  silliness  to  them,  — nor  did  they,  in  order  to  escape 
from  those  ills,  invent  ‘ another  and  a better  world  ’ of  the 
imagination,  in  which,  along  with  the  ills,  the  innocent 
goods  of  sense  would  also  find  no  place.  This  integrity 
of  the  instinctive  reactions,  this  freedom  from  all  moral 
sophistry  and  strain,  gives  a pathetic  dignity  to  ancient 
pagan  feeling.  And  this  quality  Whitman’s  outpourings 
have  not  got.  His  optimism  is  too  voluntary  and  defi- 
ant ; his  gospel  has  a touch  of  bravado  and  an  affected 
twist,^  and  this  diminishes  its  effect  on  many  readers  who 
yet  are  well  disposed  towards  optimism,  and  on  the  whole 
quite  willing  to  admit  that  in  important  respects  Whitman 
is  of  the  genuine  lineage  of  the  prophets. 

If,  then,  we  give  the  name  of  healthy-mindedness  to  the 
tendency  which  looks  on  all  things  and  sees  that  they  are 
good,  we  find  that  we  must  distinguish  between  a more 
involuntary  and  a more  voluntary  or  systematic  way  of 
being  healthy-minded.  In  its  involuntary  variety,  healthy- 

’ “ God  is  afraid  of  me  ! ” remarked  such  a titanic-optimistic  friend  in 
my  presence  one  morning  when  he  was  feeling  particularly  hearty  and  can- 
nibalistic. The  defiance  of  the  phrase  showed  that  a Christian  education 
in  humility  still  rankled  in  his  breast. 


88 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


mindedness  is  a way  of  feeling  happy  about  things  im* 
mediately.  In  its  systematical  variety,  it  is  an  abstract 
way  of  conceiving  things  as  good.  Every  abstract  way  of 
conceiving  things  selects  some  one  aspect  of  them  as  their 
essence  for  the  time  being,  and  disregards  the  other  as- 
pects. Systematic  healthy-mindedness,  conceiving  good  as 
the  essential  and  universal  aspect  of  being,  deliberately 
excludes  evil  from  its  field  of  vision ; and  although, 
when  thus  nakedly  stated,  this  might  seem  a difficult  feat 
to  perform  for  one  who  is  intellectually  sincere  with  him- 
self and  honest  about  facts,  a little  reflection  shows  that 
the  situation  is  too  complex  to  lie  open  to  so  simple  a 
criticism. 

In  the  first  place,  happiness,  Hke  every  other  emotional 
state,  has  blindness  and  insensibility  to  opposing  facts 
given  it  as  its  instinctive  weapon  for  self-protection 
against  disturbance.  When  happiness  is  actually  in  pos- 
session, the  thought  of  evil  can  no  more  acquire  the  feel- 
ing of  reality  than  the  thought  of  good  can  gain  reahty 
when  melancholy  rules.  To  the  man  actively  happy, 
from  whatever  cause,  evil  simply  cannot  then  and  there 
be  believed  in.  He  must  ignore  it ; and  to  the  bystander 
he  may  then  seem  perversely  to  shut  his  eyes  to  it  and 
hush  it  up. 

But  more  than  this : the  hushing  of  it  up  may,  in  a 
perfectly  candid  and  honest  mind,  grow  into  a deliberate 
religious  policy,  or  parti  pris.  Much  of  what  we  call 
evil  is  due  entirely  to  the  way  men  take  the  phenomenon. 
It  can  so  often  be  converted  into  a bracing  and  tonic 
good  by  a simple  change  of  the  sufferer’s  inner  attitude 
from  one  of  fear  to  one  of  fight ; its  sting  so  often  de- 
parts and  turns  into  a relish  when,  after  vainly  seeking 
to  shun  it,  we  agree  to  face  about  and  bear  it  cheerfully, 
that  a man  is  simply  bound  in  honor,  with  reference  to 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


89 


many  of  the  facts  that  seem  at  first  to  disconcert  his 
peace,  to  adopt  this  way  of  escape.  Refuse  to  admit 
their  badness ; despise  their  power ; ignore  their  pre- 
sence ; turn  your  attention  the  other  way ; and  so  far  as 
you  yourself  are  concerned  at  any  rate,  though  the  facts 
may  still  exist,  their  evil  character  exists  no  longer. 
Since  you  make  them  evil  or  good  by  your  own  thoughts 
about  them,  it  is  the  ruling  of  your  thoughts  which 
proves  to  be  your  principal  concern. 

The  deliberate  adoption  of  an  optimistic  turn  of  mind 
thus  makes  its  entrance  into  philosophy.  And  once  in, 
it  is  hard  to  trace  its  lawful  bounds.  Not  only  does  the 
human  instinct  for  happiness,  bent  on  self-protection  by 
ignoring,  keep  working  in  its  favor,  but  higher  inner 
ideals  have  weighty  words  to  say.  The  attitude  of  unhap- 
j'iuess  is  not  only  painful,  it  is  mean  and  ugly.  What  can 
be  more  base  and  unworthy  than  the  pining,  puling, 
mumping  mood,  no  matter  by  what  outward  ills  it  may 
have  been  engendered  ? What  is  more  injurious  to  oth- 
ers ? What  less  helpful  as  a way  out  of  the  difficulty  ? 
Tt  but  fastens  and  perpetuates  the  trouble  which  occa- 
lOned  it,  and  increases  the  total  evil  of  the  situation. 
At  all  costs,  then,  we  ought  to  reduce  the  sway  of  that 
mood  ; we  ought  to  scout  it  in  ourselves  and  others,  and 
never  show  it  tolerance.  But  it  is  impossible  to  carry  on 
this  discipline  in  the  subjective  sphere  without  zealously 
emphasizing  the  brighter  and  minimizing  the  darker  as- 
pects of  the  objective  sphere  of  things  at  the  same  time. 
And  thus  our  resolution  not  to  indulge  in  misery,  begin- 
ning at  a comparatively  small  point  within  ourselves, 
may  not  stop  until  it  has  brought  the  entire  frame  of 
reality  under  a systematic  conception  optimistic  enough 
to  be  congenial  with  its  needs. 

In  all  this  I say  nothing  of  any  mystical  insight  or 


90  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

persuasion  that  the  total  frame  of  things  absolutely  must 
be  good.  Such  mystical  persuasion  plays  an  enormous 
part  in  the  history  of  the  religious  consciousness,  and 
we  must  look  at  it  later  with  some  care.  But  we  need 
not  go  so  far  at  present.  More  ordinary  non-mystical  con- 
ditions of  rapture  suffice  for  my  immediate  contention. 
AU  invasive  moral  states  and  passionate  enthusiasms 
make  one  feelingless  to  evil  in  some  direction.  The 
common  penalties  cease  to  deter  the  patriot,  the  usual 
prudences  are  flung  by  the  lover  to  the  winds.  When 
the  passion  is  extreme,  suffering  may  actually  be  gloried 
in,  provided  it  be  for  the  ideal  cause,  death  may  lose  its 
sting,  the  grave  its  victory.  In  these  states,  the  ordinary 
contrast  of  good  and  ill  seems  to  be  swallowed  up  in  a 
higher  denomination,  an  omnipotent  excitement  which 
engulfs  the  evil,  and  which  the  human  being  welcomes 
as  the  crowning  experience  of  his  life.  This,  he  says,  is 
truly  to  live,  and  I exult  in  the  heroic  opportunity  and 
adventure. 

The  systematic  cultivation  of  healthy-mindedness  as  a 
religious  attitude  is  therefore  consonant  with  important 
currents  in  human  nature,  and  is  anything  but  absurd. 
In  fact,  we  all  do  cultivate  it  more  or  less,  even  when  our 
professed  theology  should  in  consistency  forbid  it.  We 
divert  our  attention  from  disease  and  death  as  much  as 
we  can  ; and  the  slaughter-houses  and  indecencies  with- 
out end  on  which  our  life  is  founded  are  huddled  out  of 
sight  and  never  mentioned,  so  that  the  world  we  recog- 
nize officially  in  literature  and  in  society  is  a poetic  fiction 
far  handsomer  and  cleaner  and  better  than  the  world  that 
really  is.^ 


^ “ As  I go  on  in  this  life,  day  by  day,  I become  more  of  a bewildered 
child;  I cannot  get  used  to  this  world,  to  procreation,  to  heredity,  to  sight, 
to  hearing  ; the  commonest  things  are  a burthen.  The  prim,  obliterated, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS  91 

The  advance  of  liberalism,  so-called,  in  Christianity, 
during’  the  past  fifty  years,  may  fairly  be  called  a victory 
of  healthy-mindedness  within  the  church  over  the  morbid- 
ness with  which  the  old  hell-fire  theology  was  more  har- 
moniously related.  We  have  now  whole  congregations 
whose  preachers,  far  from  magnifying  our  consciousness 
of  sin,  seem  devoted  rather  to  making  little  of  it.  The} 
ignore,  or  even  deny,  eternal  punishment,  and  insist  oi 
the  dignity  rather  than  on  the  depravity  of  man.  The} 
look  at  the  continual  preoccupation  of  the  old-fashioned 
Christian  with  the  salvation  of  his  soul  as  something 
sickly  and  reprehensible  rather  than  admirable ; and  a 
sanguine  and  ^ muscular  ’ attitude,  which  to  our  fore- 
fathers would  have  seemed  purely  heathen,  has  become 
in  their  eyes  an  ideal  element  of  Christian  character.  I 
am  not  asking  whether  or  not  they  are  right,  I am  only 
pointing  out  the  change. 

The  persons  to  whom  I refer  have  still  retained  for  the 
most  part  their  nominal  connection  with  Christianity,  in 
spite  of  their  discarding  of  its  more  pessimistic  theologi- 
cal elements.  But  in  that  ^ theory  of  evolution  ’ which, 
gathering  momentum  for  a century,  has  within  the  past 
twenty-five  years  swept  so  rapidly  over  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica, we  see  the  ground  laid  for  a new  sort  of  religion  of 
Nature,  which  has  entirely  displaced  Christianity  from 
the  thought  of  a large  part  of  our  generation.  The  idea 
of  a universal  evolution  lends  itself  to  a doctrine  of  gen- 
eral meliorism  and  progress  which  fits  the  religious  needs 
of  the  healthy-minded  so  well  that  it  seems  almost  as  if 
it  might  have  been  created  for  their  use.  Accordingly 
we  find  ‘ evolutionism  ’ interpreted  thus  optimistically  and 

polite  surface  of  life,  and  the  broad,  bawdy,  and  orgiastic  — or  msenadic  — ' 
foundations,  form  a spectacle  to  which  no  habit  reconciles  me.”  R.  L. 
Stevenson  : Letters,  ii.  355. 


92 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


embraced  as  a substitute  for  the  religion  they  were  born 
in,  by  a multitude  of  our  contemporaries  who  have  either 
been  trained  scientifically,  or  been  fond  of  reading  pop- 
ular science,  and  who  had  already  begun  to  be  inwardly 
dissatisfied  with  what  seemed  to  them  the  harshness  and 
irrationality  of  the  orthodox  Christian  scheme.  As  exam- 
ples are  better  than  descriptions,  I will  quote  a document 
received  in  answer  to  Professor  Starbuck’s  circular  of  ques- 
tions. The  writer’s  state  of  mind  may  by  courtesy  be 
called  a religion,  for  it  is  his  reaction  on  the  whole  nature 
of  things,  it  is  systematic  and  reflective,  and  it  loyally 
binds  him  to  certain  inner  ideals.  I think  you  will  recog- 
nize in  him,  coarse-meated  and  incapable  of  wounded 
spirit  as  he  is,  a sufficiently  familiar  contemporary  type. 

Q.  What  does  Religion  mean  to  you  f 

A.  It  means  nothing ; and  it  seems,  so  far  as  I can  observe, 
useless  to  others.  I am  sixty-seven  years  of  age  and  have  re- 
sided in  X.  fifty  years,  and  have  been  in  business  forty-five, 
consequently  I have  some  little  experience  of  life  and  men,  and 
some  women  too,  and  I find  that  the  most  religious  and  pious 
people  are  as  a rule  those  most  lacking  in  uprightness  and  mo- 
rality. The  men  who  do  not  go  to  church  or  have  any  religious 
convictions  are  the  best.  Praying,  singing  of  hymns,  and  ser- 
monizing are  pernicious  — they  teach  us  to  rely  on  some  super- 
natural power,  when  we  ought  to  rely  on  ourselves.  I ^eetotally 
disbelieve  in  a God.  The  God-idea  was  begotten  in  ignorance, 
fear,  and  a general  lack  of  any  knowledge  of  Nature.  If  I were 
to  die  now,  being  in  a healthy  condition  for  my  age,  both  men- 
tally and  physically,  I would  just  as  lief,  yes,  rather,  die  with  a 
hearty  enjoyment  of  music,  sport,  or  any  other  rational  pastime. 
As  a timepiece  stops,  we  die  — there  being  no  immortality  in 
either  case. 

Q.  What  comes  before  your  mind  corresponding  to  ih& 
words  God,  Heaven,  Angels,  etc.  f 

A.  Nothing  whatever.  I am  a man  without  a religion. 
These  words  mean  so  much  mythic  bosh. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


93 


Q.  Have  you  had  any  experiences  which  appeared’  provi- 
dential ? 

A.  None  whatever.  There  is  no  agency  of  the  superintend- 
ing kind.  A little  judicious  observation  as  well  as  knowledge 
of  scientific  law  will  convince  any  one  of  this  fact. 

Q.  What  things  work  most  strongly  07i  your  emotions  ? 

A.  Lively  songs  and  music ; Pinafore  instead  of  an  Oratorio, 
I like  Scott,  Burns,  Byron,  Longfellow,  especially  Shake- 
speare,  etc.,  etc.  Of  songs,  the  Star-spangled  Banner,  America, 
Marseillaise,  and  all  moral  and  soul-stirring  songs,  but  wishy- 
washy  hymns  are  my  detestation.  I greatly  enjoy  nature, 
especially  fine  weather,  and  until  within  a few  years  used  to 
walk  Sundays  into  the  country,  twelve  miles  often,  with  no 
fatigue,  and  bicycle  forty  or  fifty.  I have  dropped  the  bicycle. 
I never  go  to  church,  but  attend  lectures  when  there  are  any 
good  ones.  All  of  my  thoughts  and  cogitations  have  been  of 
a healthy  and  cheerful  kind,  for  instead  of  doubts  and  fears  I 
see  things  as  they  are,  for  I endeavor  to  adjust  myself  to  my 
environment.  This  I regard  as  the  deepest  law.  Mankind 
is  a progressive  animal.  I am  satisfied  he  will  have  made  a 
great  advance  over  his  present  status  a thousand  years  hence. 

Q.  What  is  your  notion  of  sin  ? 

A.  It  seems  to  me  that  sin  is  a condition,  a disease,  inciden- 
tal to  man’s  development  not  being  yet  advanced  enough. 
Morbidness  over  it  increases  the  disease.  We  should  think 
that  a million  of  years  hence  equity,  justice,  and  mental  and 
physical  good  order  will  be  so  fixed  and  organized  that  no  one 
will  have  any  idea  of  evil  or  sin. 

Q.  What  is  your  temperament  f 

A.  Nervous,  active,  wide-awake,  mentally  and  physically. 
Sorry  that  Nature  compels  us  to  sleep  at  all. 

If  we  are  in  search  of  a broken  and  a contrite  heart, 
clearly  we  need  not  look  to  this  brother.  His  content- 
ment with  the  finite  incases  him  like  a lobster-shell  and 
shields  him  from  all  morbid  repining  at  his  distance  from 
the  Infinite.  We  have  in  him  an  excellent  example  of  the 
optimism  which  may  be  encouraged  by  popular  science. 


94 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


To  my  mind  a current  far  more  important  and  inter* 
esting  religiously  than  that  which  sets  in  from  natural 
science  towards  healthy-mindedness  is  that  which  has 
recently  poured  over  America  and  seems  to  be  gathering 
force  every  day,  — I am  ignorant  what  foothold  it  may 
yet  have  acquired  in  Great  Britain,  — and  to  which,  for 
the  sake  of  having  a brief  designation,  I will  give  the 
title  of  the  ‘ Mind-cure  movement.’  There  are  various 
sects  of  this  ‘ New  Thought,’  to  use  another  of  the  names 
by  which  it  calls  itself  ; but  their  agreements  are  so  pro- 
found that  their  differences  may  be  neglected  for  my 
present  purpose,  and  I will  treat  the  movement,  without 
apology,  as  if  it  were  a simple  thing. 

It  is  a deliberately  optimistic  scheme  of  life,  with  both 
a speculative  and  a practical  side.  In  its  gradual  develop- 
ment during  the  last  quarter  of  a century,  it  has  taken 
up  into  itself  a number  of  contributory  elements,  and  it 
must  now  be  reckoned  with  as  a genuine  religious  power. 
It  has  reached  the  stage,  for  example,  when  the  demand 
for  its  literature  is  great  enough  for  insincere  stuff, 
mechanically  produced  for  the  market,  to  be  to  a certain 
extent  supplied  by  pubhshers,  — a phenomenon  never 
observed,  I imagine,  until  a religion  has  got  well  past 
its  earliest  insecure  beginnings. 

One  of  the  doctrinal  sources  of  Mind-cure  is  the  four 
Gospels;  another  is  Emersonianism  or  New  England  tran- 
scendentalism ; another  is  Berkeleyan  idealism ; another 
is  spiritism,  with  its  messages  of  ‘ law  ’ and  ‘ progress  ’ 
and  ‘ development  ’ ; another  the  optimistic  popular  sci- 
ence evolutionism  of  which  I have  recently  spoken  ; and, 
finally,  Hinduism  has  contributed  a strain.  But  the 
most  characteristic  feature  of  the  mind-cure  movement 
is  an  inspiration  much  more  direct.  The  leaders  in  this 
faith  have  had  an  intuitive  belief  in  the  all-saving  power 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


95 


of  healthy-minded  attitudes  as  such,  in  the  conquering 
efficacy  of  courage,  hope,  and  trust,  and  a correlative 
contempt  for  doubt,  fear,  worry,  and  all  nervously  pre- 
cautionary states  of  mindd  Their  belief  has  in  a gen- 
eral way  been  corroborated  by  the  practical  experience  of 
their  disciples ; and  this  experience  forms  to-day  a mass 
imposing  in  amount. 

The  blind  have  been  made  to  see,  the  halt  to  walk ; 
lifelong  invalids  have  had  tlieir  health  restored.  The 
moral  fruits  have  been  no  less  remarkable.  The  deliber- 
ate adoption  of  a healthy-minded  attitude  has  proved  pos- 
sible to  many  who  never  supposed  they  had  it  in  them  ; 
regeneration  of  character  has  gone  on  on  an  extensive 
scale ; and  cheerfulness  has  been  restored  to  countless 
homes.  The  indirect  influence  of  this  has  been  great. 
The  mind-cure  principles  are  beginning  so  to  pervade 
the  air  that  one  catches  their  spirit  at  second-hand. 
One  hears  of  the  ‘ Gospel  of  Relaxation,’  of  the  ‘ Don’t 
Worry  Movement,’  of  people  who  repeat  to  themselves, 
‘ Youth,  health,  vigor!’  when  dressing  in  the  morning, 
as  their  motto  for  the  day.  Complaints  of  the  weather 
are  getting  to  be  forbidden  in  many  households ; and 
more  and  more  people  are  recognizing  it  to  be  bad  form 
to  speak  of  disagreeable  sensations,  or  to  make  much  of 
the  ordinary  inconveniences  and  ailments  of  life.  These 
general  tonic  effects  on  public  opinion  would  be  good 
even  if  the  more  striking  results  were  non-existent.  But 
the  latter  abound  so  that  we  can  afford  to  overlook  the 

1 ‘ Cautionary  Verses  for  Children  ’ ; this  title  of  a much  used  work,  pub- 
lished early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  shows  how  far  the  muse  of  evangelical 
Protestantism  in  England,  with  her  mind  fixed  on  the  idea  of  danger,  had 
at  last  drifted  away  from  the  original  gospel  freedom.  Mind-cure  might 
be  briefly  called  a reaction  against  all  that  religion  of  chronic  anxiety  which 
marked  the  earlier  part  of  our  century  in  the  evangelical  circles  of  England 
Wid  America. 


96 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


mnunierable  failures  and  self-deceptions  that  are  mixed 
in  with  them  (for  in  everything  human  failure  is  a matter 
of  course),  and  we  can  also  overlook  the  verbiage  of  a 
good  deal  of  the  mind-cure  literature,  some  of  which  is 
so  moonstruck  with  optimism  and  so  vaguely  expressed 
that  an  academically  trained  intellect  finds  it  almost  im- 
possible to  read  it  at  all. 

The  plain  fact  remains  that  the  spread  of  the  move- 
ment has  been  due  to  practical  fruits,  and  the  extremely 
practical  turn  of  character  of  the  American  people  has 
never  been  better  shown  than  by  the  fact  that  this,  their 
only  decidedly  original  contribution  to  the  systematic 
philosophy  of  life,  should  be  so  intimately  knit  up  with 
concrete  therapeutics.  To  the  importance  of  mind-cure 
the  medical  and  clerical  professions  in  the  United  States 
are  beginning,  though  with  much  recalcitrancy  and  pro- 
testing, to  open  their  eyes.  It  is  evidently  bound  to 
develop  still  farther,  both  specidatively  and  practically, 
and  its  latest  writers  are  far  and  away  the  ablest  of  the 
group.^  It  matters  nothing  that,  just  as  there  are  hosts 
of  persons  who  cannot  pray,  so  there  are  greater  hosts 
who  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  influenced  by  the  mind- 
curers’  ideas.  For  our  immediate  purpose,  the  important 
point  is  that  so  large  a number  should  exist  who  can  be 
so  influenced.  They  form  a psychic  type  to  be  studied 
with  respect.^ 

’ I refer  to  Mr.  Horatio  W.  Dresser  and  Mr.  Henry  Wood,  especially  the 
■ormer.  Mr.  Dresser’s  works  are  published  by  G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons,  New 
York  and  London  ; Mr.  Wood’s  by  Lee  & Shepard,  Boston. 

^ Lest  my  own  testimony  be  suspected,  I will  quote  another  reporter.  Dr. 
H.  H.  Goddard,  of  Clark  University,  whose  thesis  on  “ the  Effects  of  Mind 
on  Body  as  evidenced  by  Faith  Cures”  is  published  in  the  American  Jour- 
nal of  Psychology  for  1899  (vol.  x.).  This  critic,  after  a wide  study  of  the 
facts,  concludes  that  the  cures  by  mind-cure  exist,  but  are  in  no  respect 
different  from  those  now  officially  recognized  in  medicine  as  cures  by  sug- 
gestion ; and  the  end  of  his  essay  contains  an  interesting  physiological 


THE  KELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


97 


To  come  now  to  a little  closer  quarters  with  their 
creed.  The  fundamental  pillar  on  which  it  rests  is 
nothing  more  than  the  general  basis  of  all  religious 
experience,  the  fact  that  man  has  a dual  nature,  and  is 
connected  with  two  spheres  of  thought,  a shallower  and 
a pi'ofounder  sphere,  in  either  of  which  he  may  learn  to 
live  more  habitually.  The  shallower  and  lower  sphere  is 
that  of  the  fleshly  sensations,  instincts,  and  desires,  of 
egotism,  doubt,  and  the  lower  personal  interests.  But 
whereas  Christian  theology  has  always  considered  fro- 

speculation  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  suggestive  ideas  may  work  (p.  67  of 
the  reprint).  As  regards  the  general  phenomenon  of  mental  cure  itself, 
Dr.  Goddard  writes  : “ In  spite  of  the  severe  criticism  we  have  made  of 
reports  of  cure,  there  still  remains  a vast  amonnt  of  material,  showing  a 
powerful  influence  of  the  mind  in  disease.  Many  cases  are  of  diseases  that 
have  been  diagnosed  and  treated  by  the  best  physicians  of  the  country,  or 
which  prominent  hospitals  have  tried  their  hand  at  curing,  but  without  suc- 
cess. People  of  culture  and  education  have  been  treated  by  this  method 
with  satisfactory  results.  Diseases  of  long  standing  have  been  ameliorated, 
and  even  cured.  ...  We  have  traced  the  mental  element  through  primi- 
tive medicine  and  folk-medicine  of  to-day,  patent  medicine,  and  witchcraft. 
We  are  convinced  that  it  is  impossible  to  account  for  the  existence  of  these 
practices,  if  they  did  not  cure  disease,  and  that  if  they  cured  disease,  it 
must  have  been  the  mental  element  that  was  effective.  The  same  argu- 
ment applies  to  those  modern  schools  of  mental  therapeutics  — Divine 
Healiug  and  Christian  Science.  It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  the  large  body 
of  intelligent  people  who  comprise  the  body  known  distinctively  as  Mental 
Scientists  should  continue  to  exist  if  the  whole  thing  were  a delusion.  It  is 
not  a thing  of  a day  ; it  is  not  confined  to  a few  ; it  is  not  local.  It  is  true 
that  many  failures  are  recorded,  but  that  only  adds  to  the  argument.  There 
must  be  many  and  striking  successes  to  counterbalance  the  failures,  other- 
wise the  failures  would  have  ended  the  delusion.  . . . Christian  Science, 
Divine  Healing,  or  Mental  Science  do  not,  and  never  can  in  the  very  nature 
of  things,  cure  all  diseases  ; nevertheless,  the  practical  applications  of  the 
general  principles  of  the  broadest  mental  science  will  tend  to  prevent 
disease.  . . . We  do  find  sufficient  evidence  to  convince  us  that  the  proper 
reform  in  mental  attitude  would  relieve  many  a sufferer  of  ills  that  the 
ordinary  physician  cannot  touch  ; would  even  delay  the  approach  of  death 
to  many  a victim  beyond  the  power  of  absolute  cure,  and  the  faithful 
adherence  to  a truer  philosophy  of  life  will  keep  many  a man  well,  and 
give  the  doctor  time  to  devote  to  alleviating  ills  that  are  unpreventable  ” 
(pp.  33,  34  of  reprint). 


98 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


wardness  to  be  the  essential  vice  of  this  part  of  human 
nature,  the  mind-curers  say  that  the  mark  of  the  beast 
in  it  is  fear  ; and  this  is  what  gives  such  an  entirely  new 
religious  turn  to  their  persuasion. 

“ Fear,”  to  quote  a writer  of  the  school,  “ has  had  its  uses  in 
the  evolutionary  process,  and  seems  to  constitute  the  whole  of 
forethought  in  most  animals  ; but  that  it  should  remain  any 
part  of  the  mental  equipment  of  human  civilized  life  is  an 
absurdity.  I find  that  the  feai-  element  of  forethought  is  not 
stimulating  to  those  more  civilized  persons  to  whom  duty  and 
attraction  are  the  natural  motives,  but  is  weakening  and  deter- 
rent. As  soon  as  it  becomes  unnecessary,  fear  becomes  a posi- 
tive deterrent,  and  should  be  entirely  removed,  as  dead  flesh  is 
removed  from  living  tissue.  To  assist  in  the  analysis  of  fear, 
and  in  the  denunciation  of  its  expressions,  I have  coined  the 
word  fearthought  to  stand  for  the  unprofitable  element  of  fore- 
thought, and  have  defined  the  word  ‘ worry  ’ as  fearthought  in 
contradistinction  to  forethought.  I have  also  defined  fear- 
thought as  the  self-imposed  or  self-permitted  suggestion  of 
inferiority.,  in  order  to  place  it  where  it  really  belongs,  in  the 
category  of  harmful,  unnecessary,  and  therefore  not  respectable 
things.”  ^ 

The  ‘ misery-habit,’  the  ‘ martyr-habit,’  engendered  by 
the  prevalent  ‘ fearthought,’  get  pungent  criticism  from 
the  mind-cure  writers  : — 

“ Consider  for  a moment  the  habits  of  life  into  which  we  arf 
born.  There  are  certain  social  conventions  or  customs  ana 
alleged  requirements,  there  is  a theological  bias,  a general  view 
of  the  world.  There  are  conservative  ideas  in  regard  to  our 
early  training,  our  education,  marriage,  and  occupation  in  life. 
Following  close  upon  this,  there  is  a long  series  of  anticipations, 
namely,  that  we  shall  suffer  certain  children’s  diseases,  diseases 
of  middle  life,  and  of  old  age  ; the  thought  that  we  shall  grow 

1 Horace  Fletcher  : Happiness  as  found  in  Forethought  minus  Fear- 
thought, Menticultui’e  Series,  it  Chicago  and  New  York,  Stone,  1897,  pp. 
21-25,  abridged. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


99 


old,  lose  our  faculties,  and  again  become  childlike ; while  crown- 
ing all  is  the  fear  of  death.  Then  there  is  a long  line  of 
particular  fears  and  trouble-bearing  expectations,  such,  for 
example,  as  ideas  associated  with  certain  articles  of  food,  the 
dread  of  the  east  wind,  the  terrors  of  hot  weather,  the  aches 
and  pains  associated  with  cold  weather,  the  fear  of  catching 
cold  if  one  sits  in  a draught,  the  coming  of  hay-fever  upon  the 
14th  of  August  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  so  on  through 
a long  list  of  fears,  dreads,  worriments,  anxieties,  anticipations, 
expectations,  pessimisms,  morbidities,  and  the  whole  ghostly 
train  of  fateful  shapes  which  our  fellow-men,  and  especially 
physicians,  are  ready  to  help  us  conjure  up,  an  array  worthy  to 
rank  with  Bradley’s  ‘ unearthly  ballet  of  bloodless  categories.’ 

“ Yet  this  is  not  all.  This  vast  array  is  swelled  by  innumer- 
able volunteers  from  daily  life,  — the  fear  of  accident,  the  pos- 
sibility of  calamity,  the  loss  of  property,  the  chance  of  robbery, 
of  fire,  or  the  outbreak  of  war.  And  it  is  not  deemed  sufficient 
to  fear  for  ourselves.  When  a friend  is  taken  ill,  we  must 
forthwith  fear  the  worst  and  apprehend  death.  If  one  meets 
with  sorrow  . . . sympathy  means  to  enter  into  and  increase 
the  suffering.”  ^ 

“ Man,”  to  quote  another  writer,  “ often  has  fear  stamped 
upon  him  before  his  entrance  into  the  outer  world ; he  is  reared 
in  fear ; all  his  life  is  passed  in  bondage  to  fear  of  disease  and 
death,  and  thus  his  whole  mentality  becomes  cramped,  limited, 
and  depressed,  and  his  body  follows  its  shrunken  pattern  and 
specification.  . . . Think  of  the  millions  of  sensitive  and  respon- 
sive souls  among  our  ancestors  who  have  been  under  the  domin- 
ion of  such  a perpetual  nightmare ! Is  it  not  surprising  that 
health  exists  at  all?  Nothing  but  the  boundless  divine  love, 
exuberance,  and  vitality,  constantly  poured  in,  even  though 
unconsciously  to  us,  could  in  some  degree  neutralize  such  an 
ocean  of  morbidity.”  ^ 

Although  the  disciples  of  the  mind-cure  often  use 
Christian  terminology,  one  sees  from  such  quotations 

^ H.  W.  Dresser:  Voices  of  Freedom,  New  York,  1899,  p.  38. 

^ Henry  Wood  : Ideal  Suggestion  through  Mental  Photography,  Boston, 
1899,  p.  54. 


100  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


how  widely  their  notion  of  the  fall  of  man  diverges  from 
that  of  ordinary  Christians^ 

Their  notion  of  man’s  higher  nature  is  hardly  less 
divergent,  being  decidedly  pantheistic.  The  spiritual  in 
/*  man  appears  in  the  mind-cure  philosophy  as  partly  con- 
scious, but  chiefly  subconscious  ; and  through  the  sub 
conscious  part  of  it  we  are  already  one  with  the  Divine 
without  any  miracle  of  grace,  or  abrupt  creation  of  a 
new  inner  man.  As  this  view  is  variously  expressed  by 
different  ^ /riters,  we  find  in  it  traces  of  Christian  mysti- 
cism, cf  /ranscendental  idealism,  of  vedantism,  and  of 
the  modern  psychology  of  the  subliminal  self.  A quota- 
tion or  two  will  put  us  at  the  central  point  of  view ; — 

“ The  great  central  fact  of  the  universe  is  that  spirit  of  infi. 
nite  life  and  power  that  is  back  of  all,  that  manifests  itself  in 
and  through  all.  This  spirit  of  infinite  life  and  power  that  is 
back  of  all  is  what  1 call  God.  I care  not  what  term  you  may 
use,  be  it  Kindly  Light,  Providence,  the  Over-Soul,  Omnipo- 

1 Whether  it  differs  so  much  from  Christ’s  own  notion  is  for  the  exeget 
ists  to  decide.  According  to  Harnack,  Jesus  felt  about  evil  and  disease 
much  as  our  mind-curers  do.  “ What  is  the  answer  which  Jesus  sends  tc 
John  the  Baptist  ? ” asks  Harnack,  and  says  it  is  this  : “ ‘ The  blind  see, 
and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  rise 
up,  and  the  gospel  is  preached  to  the  poor.’  That  is  the  ‘ coming  of  the 
kingdom,’  or  rather  in  these  saving  works  the  kingdom  is  already  there. 
By  the  overcoming  and  removal  of  misery,  of  need,  of  sickness,  by  these 
actual  effects  John  is  to  see  that  the  new  time  has  arrived.  The  casting 
out  of  devils  is  only  a part  of  this  work  of  redemption,  but  Jesus  points  to 
that  as  the  sense  and  seal  of  his  mission.  Thus  to  the  wretched,  sick,  and 
poor  did  he  address  himself,  but  not  as  a moralist,  and  without  a trace  of 
sentimentalism.  He  never  makes  groups  and  departments  of  the  ills  ; he 
never  spends  time  in  asking  whether  the  sick  one  ‘ deserves  ’ to  be  cured  ; 
and  it  never  occurs  to  him  to  sympathize  with  the  pain  or  the  death.  He 
nowhere  says  that  sickness  is  a beneficent  infliction,  and  that  evil  has  a 
healthy  use.  No,  he  calls  sickness  sickness  and  health  health.  All  evil, 
all  wretchedness,  is  for  him  something  dreadful  ; it  is  of  the  great  kingdom 
of  Satan  ; but  he  feels  the  power  of  the  Saviour  within  him.  He  knows 
that  advance  is  possible  only  when  weakness  is  overcome  when  sickness  is 
made  well.”  Das  Wesen  dee  Christenthums,  1900,  p.  39. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


101 


tence,  or  whatever  term  may  be  most  convenient,  so  long  as  we 
are  agreed  in  regard  to  the  great  central  fact  itself.  God  then 
fills  the  universe  alone,  so  that  all  is  from  Him  and  in  Him, 
and  there  is  nothing  that  is  outside.  He  is  the  life  of  our  life, 
our  very  life  itself.  W e are  partakers  of  the  life  of  God  ; and 
though  we  differ  from  Him  in  that  we  are  individualized  spirits, 
while  He  is  the  Infinite  Spirit,  including  us,  as  well  as  all  else 
beside,  yet  in  essence  the  life  of  God  and  the  life  of  man  are 
identically  the  same,  and  so  are  one.  They  differ  not  in  essence 
or  quality ; they  differ  in  degree. 

“ The  great  central  fact  in  human  life  is  the  coming  into  a 
conscious  vital  realization  of  our  oneness  with  this  Infinite  Life, 
and  the  opening  of  ourselves  fully  to  this  divine  inflow.  In 
just  the  degree  that  we  come  into  a conscious  realization  of  our 
oneness  with  the  Infinite  Life,  and  open  ourselves  to  this  divine 
inflow,  do  we  actualize  in  ourselves  the  qualities  and  powers 
of  the  Infinite  Life,  do  we  make  ourselves  channels  through 
which  the  Infinite  Intelligence  and  Power  can  work.  In  just 
the  degree  in  which  you  realize  your  oneness  with  the  Infinite 
Spirit,  you  will  exchange  dis-ease  for  ease,  in  harmony  for  har- 
mony, suffering  and  pain  for  abounding  health  and  strength. 
To  recognize  our  own  divinity,  and  our  intimate  relation  to  the 
Universal,  is  to  attach  the  belts  of  our  machinery  to  the  power- 
house of  the  Universe.  One  need  remain  in  hell  no  longer  than 
one  chooses  to  ; we  can  rise  to  any  heaven  we  ourselves  choose ; 
and  when  we  choose  so  to  rise,  all  the  higher  powers  of  the 
Universe  combine  to  help  us  heavenward.”  ^ 

Let  me  now  pass  from  these  abstracter  statements  to 
some  more  concrete  accounts  of  experience  with  the 
mind-cure  religion.  I have  many  answers  from  corre- 
spondents — the  only  difficulty  is  to  choose.  The  first 
two  whom  I shall  quote  are  my  personal  friends.  One  of 
them,  a woman,  writing  as  follows,  expresses  well  the 
feehng  of  continuity  with  the  Infinite  Power,  by  which 
all  mind-cure  disciples  are  inspired. 

^ R.  W.  Trine:  In  Tune  with  the  Infinite,  26th  thousand,  N.  Y.,  1899i 
I have  strung  scattered  passages  together. 


102  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ The  first  underlying  cause  of  all  sickness,  weakness,  OT 
depression  is  the  human  sense  of  separateness  from  that 
Divine  Energy  which  we  call  God.  The  soul  which  can  feel 
and  affirm  in  serene  but  jubilant  confidence,  as  did  the  Naza- 
rene : ‘ I and  my  Father  are  one,’  has  no  further  need  of  healer, 
or  of  healing.  This  is  the  whole  truth  in  a nutshell,  and  other 
foundation  for  wholeness  can  no  man  lay  than  this  fact  of 
impregnable  divine  union.  Disease  can  no  longer  attack  one 
whose  feet  are  planted  on  this  rock,  who  feels  hourly,  momently, 
the  influx  of  the  Deific  Breath.  If  one  with  Omnipotence,  how 
can  weariness  enter  the  consciousness,  how  illness  assail  that 
indomitable  spark  ? 

“ This  possibility  of  annulling  forever  the  law  of  fatigue  has 
been  abundantly  proven  in  my  own  case ; for  my  earlier  life 
bears  a record  of  many,  many  years  of  bedridden  invalidism, 
with  spine  and  lower  limbs  paralyzed.  My  thoughts  were  no 
more  impure  than  they  are  to-day^although  my  belief  in  the 
necessity  of  illness  was  dense  and  unenlightened ; but  since  my 
resurrection  in  the  flesh,  I have  worked  as  a healer  unceasingly 
for  fourteen  years  without  a vacation,  and  can  truthfully  assert 
that  I have  never  known  a moment  of  fatigue  or  pain,  although 
coming  in  touch  constantly  with  excessive  weakness,  illness,  and 
disease  of  all  kinds.  For  how  can  a conscious  part  of  Deity  be 
sick  ? — since  ‘ Greater  is  he  that  is  with  us  than  all  that  can 
strive  against  us.’  ” 

My  second  correspondent,  also  a woman,  sends  me  the 
following  statement : — 

“ Life  seemed  difficult  to  me  at  one  time.  I was  always  break- 
ing down,  and  had  several  attacks  of  what  is  called  nervous 
prostration,  with  terrible  insomnia,  being  on  the  verge  of  insan- 
ity ; besides  having  many  other  troubles,  especially  of  the 
digestive  organs.  I had  been  sent  away  from  home  in  charge 
of  doctors,  had  taken  all  the  narcotics,  stopped  all  work,  been 
fed  up,  and  in  fact  knew  all  the  doctors  within  reach.  But 
I never  recovered  permanently  till  this  New  Thought  took  pos- 
session of  me. 

“ I think  that  the  one  thing  which  impressed  me  most  was 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


103 


learning  the  fact  that  we  must  be  in  absolutely  constant  relation 
or  mental  touch  (this  word  is  to  me  very  expressive)  with  that 
essence  of  life  which  permeates  all  and  which  we  call  God. 
This  is  almost  unrecognizable  unless  we  live  it  into  ourselves 
actually^  that  is,  by  a constant  turning  to  the  very  innermost, 
deepest  consciousness  of  our  real  selves  or  of  God  in  us,  for 
illumination  from  within,  just  as  we  turn  to  the  sun  for  light, 
warmth,  and  invigoration  without.  When  you  do  this  con- 
sciously, realizing  that  to  turn  inward  to  the  light  within  you 
is  to  live  in  the  presence  of  God  or  your  divine  self,  you  soon 
discover  the  unreality  of  the  objects  to  which  you  have  hitherto 
been  turning  and  which  have  engrossed  you  without. 

“ I have  come  to  disregard  the  meaning  of  this  attitude  for 
bodily  health  as  stick,  because  that  comes  of  itself,  as  an  inci- 
dental result,  and  cannot  be  found  by  any  special  mental  act  or 
desire  to  have  it,  beyond  that  general  attitude  of  mind  I have 
referred  to  above.  That  which  we  usually  make  the  object  of 
life,  those  outer  things  we  are  all  so  wildly  seeking,  which  we 
so  often  live  and  die  for,  but  which  then  do  not  give  us  peace 
and  happiness,  they  should  all  come  of  themselves  as  accessory, 
and  as  the  mere  outcome  or  natural  result  of  a far  higher  life 
sunk  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  spirit.  This  life  is  the  real  seek- 
ing of  the  kingdom  of  God,  the  desire  for  his  supremacy  in  our 
hearts,  so  that  all  e^se  comes  as  that  which  shall  be  ‘ added 
unto  you’  — as  quite  incidental  and  as  a surprise  to  us,  per- 
haps ; and  yet  it  is  the  proof  of  the  reality  of  the  perfect  poise 
in  the  very  centre  of  our  being. 

“ When  I say  that  we  commonly  make  the  object  of  our  life 
that  which  we  should  not  work  for  primarily,  I mean  many 
things  which  the  world  considers  praiseworthy  and  excellent, 
such  as  success  in  business,  fame  as  author  or  artist,  physician 
or  lawyer,  or  renown  in  philanthropic  undertakings.  Such 
things  should  be  results,  not  objects.  I would  also  include 
pleasures  of  many  kinds  which  seem  harmless  and  good  at  the 
time,  and  are  pursued  because  many  accept  them  — I mean 
conventionalities,  sociabilities,  and  fashions  in  their  various  de- 
velopment, these  being  mostly  approved  by  the  masses,  although 
Ihey  may  be  unreal,  and  even  unhealthy  superfluities.” 


104  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Here  is  another  case,  more  concrete,  also  that  of  a 
woman.  I read  you  these  cases  without  comment,  — they 
express  so  many  varieties  of  the  state  of  mind  we  are 
studying. 

“ I had  been  a sufferer  from  my  childhood  till  my  fortieth 
year.  [Details  of  ill-health  are  given  which  I omit.]  I had 
been  in  Vermont  several  months  hoping  for  good  from  the 
change  of  air,  but  steadily  growing  weaker,  when  one  day  dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  October,  while  resting  in  the  afternoon, 
I suddenly  heard  as  it  were  these  words : ‘You  will  be  healed 
and  do  a work  you  never  dreamed  of.’  These  words  were 
impressed  upon  my  mind  with  such  power  I said  at  once  that 
only  God  could  have  put  them  there.  I believed  them  in  spite 
of  myself  and  of  my  suffering  and  weakness,  which  continued 
until  Christmas,  when  I returned  to  Boston.  Within  two 
days  a young  friend  offered  to  take  me  to  a mental  healer  (this 
was  January  7,  1881).  The  healer  said  : ‘ There  is  nothing 
but  Mind  ; we  are  expressions  of  the  One  Mind ; body  is  only 
a mortal  belief ; as  a man  thinketh  so  is  he.’  I could  not  ac- 
cept all  she  said,  but  I translated  all  that  was  there  for  me  in 
this  way : ‘ There  is  nothing  but  God ; I am  created  by  Him, 
and  am  absolutely  dependent  upon  Him  ; mind  is  given  me  to 
use  ; and  by  just  so  much  of  it  as  I will  put  upon  the  thought 
of  right  action  in  body  I shall  be  lifted  out  of  bondage  to  my 
ignorance  and  fear  and  past  experience.’  That  day  I com- 
menced accordingly  to  take  a little  of  every  food  provided  foj 
the  family,  constantly  saying  to  myself : ‘ The  Power  that  cre- 
ated the  stomach  must  take  care  of  what  I have  eaten.’  By 
holding  these  suggestions  through  the  evening  I went  to  bed 
and  fell  asleep,  saying  : ‘ I am  soul,  spirit,  just  one  with  God’s 
Thought  of  me,’  and  slept  all  night  without  waking,  for  the  first 
time  in  several  years  [the  distress-turns  had  usually  recurred 
about  two  o’clock  in  the  night].  I felt  the  next  day  like  an 
escaped  prisoner,  and  believed  I had  found  the  secret  that 
would  in  time  give  me  perfect  health.  Within  ten  days  I was 
able  to  eat  anything  provided  for  others,  and  after  two  weeks 
I began  to  have  my  own  positive  mental  suggestions  of  Truth, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


106 


whicli  were  to  me  like  stepping-stones,  I will  note  a few  of 
them ; they  came  about  two  weeks  apart. 

“ 1st.  I am  Soul,  therefore  it  is  well  with  me. 

“ 2d.  I am  Soul,  therefore  I am  well. 

“ 3d.  A sort  of  inner  vision  of  myself  as  a four-footed  beast 
with  a protuberance  on  every  part  of  my  body  where  I had 
suffering,  with  my  own  face,  begging  me  to  acknowledge  it  as 
myself.  I resolutely  fixed  my  attention  on  being  well,  and 
refused  to  even  look  at  my  old  self  in  this  form. 

“4th.  Again  the  vision  of  the  beast  far  in  the  background, 
with  faint  voice.  Again  refusal  to  acknowledge. 

“ 5th.  Once  more  the  vision,  but  only  of  my  eyes  with  the 
longing  look ; and  again  the  refusal.  Then  came  the  convic- 
tion, the  inner  consciousness,  that  I was  perfectly  well  and  al- 
ways had  been,  for  I was  Soul,  an  expression  of  God’s  Perfect 
Thought.  That  was  to  me  the  perfect  and  completed  separa- 
tion between  what  I was  and  what  I appeared  to  be.  I suc- 
ceeded in  never  losing  sight  after  this  of  my  real  being,  by 
constantly  affirming  this  truth,  and  by  degrees  (though  it  took 
me  two  years  of  hard  work  to  get  there)  I expressed  health 
continuously  throughout  my  whole  hody. 

“ In  my  subsequent  nineteen  years’  experience  I have  never 
known  this  Truth  to  fail  when  I applied  it,  though  in  my  igno- 
rance I have  often  failed  to  apply  it,  but  through  my  failures  I 
have  learned  the  simplicity  and  trustfulness  of  the  little  child.” 

But  I fear  that  I risk  tiring  you  hy  so  many  examples, 
and  I must  lead  you  back  to  philosophic  generalities  again. 
You  see  already  by  such  records  of  experience  how  im- 
possible it  is  not  to  class  mind-cure  as  primarily  a re- 
liofious  movement.  Its  doctrine  of  the  oneness  of  our 
life  with  God’s  life  is  in  fact  quite  indistinguishable  from 
an  interpretation  of  Christ’s  message  which  in  these  very 
Gifford  lectures  has  been  defended  by  some  of  your  very 
ablest  Scottish  religious  philosophers.^ 

^ The  Cairds,  for  example.  In  Edward  Cairo’s  Glasgow  Lectures  of 
1890-92  passages  like  this  abound  : — 

“ The  declaration  made  in  the  beginning  of  the  ministry  of  Jesus  that 


106  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


But  philosophers  usually  profess  to  give  a quasi-logical 
explanation  of  the  existence  of  evil,  whereas  of  the  gen* 
eral  fact  of  evil  in  the  world,  the  existence  of  the  selfish, 
suffering,  timorous  finite  consciousness,  the  mind-curers, 
so  far  as  I am  acquainted  with  them,  profess  to  give  no 
speculative  explanation.  Evil  is  empirically  there  for 
them  as  it  is  for  everybody,  but  the  practical  point  of 
view  predominates,  and  it  would  ill  agree  with  the  spirit 
of  their  system  to  spend  time  in  worrying  over  it  as  a 
‘ mystery  ’ or  ‘ problem,’  or  in  ‘ laying  to  heart  ’ the  les- 
son of  its  experience,  after  the  manner  of  the  Evangeli- 
cals. Don’t  reason  about  it,  as  Dante  says,  but  give  a 
glance  and  pass  beyond ! It  is  Avidhya,  ignorance  ! 
something  merely  to  be  outgrown  and  left  behind,  tran- 
scended and  forgotten.  Christian  Science  so-called,  the 
sect  of  Mrs.  Eddy,  is  the  most  radical  branch  of  mind- 
cure  in  its  dealings  with  evil.  For  it  evil  is  simply  a lie, 

‘the  time  is  fulfilled,  and  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand,’  passes  with 
scarce  a break  into  the  announcement  that  ‘ the  kingdom  of  God  is  among 
you  ’ ; and  the  importance  of  this  announcement  is  asserted  to  be  such  that 
it  makes,  so  to  speak,  a difference  in  kind  between  the  greatest  saints  and 
prophets  who  lived  under  the  previous  reign  of  division,  and  ‘ the  least  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.’  The  highest  ideal  is  brought  close  to  men  and 
declared  to  be  within  their  reach,  they  are  called  on  to  be  ‘ perfect  as  tbeir 
Father  in  heaven  is  perfect.’  The  sense  of  alienation  and  distance  from 
God  which  had  grown  upon  the  pious  in  Israel  just  in  proportion  as  they 
had  learned  to  look  upon  Him  as  no  mere  national  divinity,  but  as  a God 
of  justice  who  would  punish  Israel  for  its  sin  as  certainly  as  Edom  or  Moab, 
is  declared  to  be  no  longer  in  place  ; and  tbe  typical  form  of  Christian 
prayer  points  to  the  abolition  of  the  contrast  between  this  world  and  the 
next  which  through  all  the  history  of  the  Jews  had  continually  been  grow- 
ing wider  : ‘ As  in  heaven,  so  on  earth.’  The  sense  of  the  division  of  man 
from  God,  as  a finite  being  from  the  Infinite,  as  weak  and  sinful  from  the 
Omnipotent  Goodness,  is  not  indeed  lost ; but  it  can  no  longer  overpower 
the  consciousness  of  oneness.  The  terms  ‘ Son  ’ and  ‘ Father  ’ at  once  state 
the  opposition  and  mark  its  limit.  They  show  that  it  is  not  an  absolute 
opposition,  but  one  which  presupposes  an  indestructible  principle  of  unity, 
that  can  and  must  become  a principle  of  reconciliation.”  The  Evolution  of 
Religion,  ii.  pp.  146,  147. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


107 


and  any  one  who  mentions  it  is  a liar.  The  optimistic 
ideal  of  duty  forbids  us  to  pay  it  the  compliment  even  of 
explicit  attention.  Of  course,  as  our  next  lectures  will 
show  us,  this  is  a bad  speculative  omission,  but  it  is 
intimately  hnked  with  the  practical  merits  of  the  system 
we  are  examining.  Why  regret  a philosophy  of  evil,  a 
mind-curer  would  ask  us,  if  I can  put  you  in  possession 
of  a life  of  good  ? 

After  all,  it  is  the  life  that  tells ; and  mind-cure  has 
developed  a living  system  of  mental  hygiene  which  may 
well  claim  to  have  thrown  all  previous  hterature  of  the 
Diatetik  der  Seele  into  the  shade.  This  system  is  wholly 
and  exclusively  compacted  of  optimism  : ‘ Pessimism  leads 
to  weakness.  Optimism  leads  to  power.’  ‘ Thoughts 
are  things,’  as  one  of  the  most  vigorous  mind-cure  writ- 
ers prints  in  bold  type  at  the  bottom  of  each  of  his  pages  ; 
and  if  your  thoughts  are  of  health,  youth,  vigor,  and  suc- 
cess, before  you  know  it  these  things  will  also  be  your 
outward  portion.  No  one  can  fail  of  the  regenerative 
influence  of  optimistic  thinking,  pertinaciously  pursued. 
Every  man  owns  indefeasibly  this  inlet  to  the  divine. 
Fear,  on  the  contrary,  and  all  the  contracted  and  egoistic 
modes  of  thought,  are  inlets  to  destruction.  Most  mind- 
curers  here  bring  in  a doctrine  that  thoughts  are  ‘ forces,’ 
and  that,  by  virtue  of  a law  that  like  attracts  like,  one 
man’s  thoughts  draw  to  themselves  as  allies  all  the 
thoughts  of  the  same  character  that  exist  the  world  over. 
Thus  one  gets,  by  one’s  thinking,  reinforcements  from 
elsewhere  for  the  realization  of  one’s  desires ; and  the 
great  point  in  the  conduct  of  hfe  is  to  get  the  heavenly 
forces  on  one’s  side  by  opening  one’s  own  mind  to  their 
influx. 

On  the  whole,  one  is  struck  by  a psychological  similar- 
ity between  the  mind-cure  movement  and  the  Lutheran 


108  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  Wesleyan  movements.  To  the  believer  in  moralism 
and  works,  with  his  anxious  query,  ‘ What  shall  I do  to 
be  saved?’  Luther  and  Wesley  replied  : ‘You  are  saved 
now,  if  you  would  but  believe  it.’  And  the  mind-curers 
come  with  precisely  similar  words  of  emancipation.  They 
speak,  it  is  true,  to  persons  for  whom  the  conception  of 
salvation  has  lost  its  ancient  theological  meaning,  but  who 
labor  nevertheless  with  the  same  eternal  human  difficulty. 
Things  are  wrong  with  them;  and  ‘What  shall  I do  to 
be  clear,  right,  sound,  whole,  well  ? ’ is  the  form  of  their 
question.  And  the  answer  is  : ‘You  are  well,  sound, 
and  clear  already,  if  you  did  but  know  it.’  “ The  whole 
matter  may  be  summed  up  in  one  sentence,”  says  one  of 
the  authors  whom  I have  already  quoted,  “ God  is  well, 
and  so  are  you.  You  must  awaken  to  the  knowledge  of 
your  real  being.” 

The  adequacy  of  their  message  to  the  mental  needs  of 
a large  fraction  of  mankind  is  what  gave  force  to  those 
earlier  gospels.  Exactly  the  same  adequacy  holds  in  the 
case  of  the  mind-cure  message,  foolish  as  it  may  sound 
upon  its  surface ; and  seeing  its  rapid  growth  in  influ- 
ence, and  its  therapeutic  triumphs,  one  is  tempted  to  ask 
whether  it  may  not  be  destined  (probably  by  very  reason 
of  the  crudity  and  extravagance  of  many  of  its  manifes- 
tations to  play  a part  almost  as  great  in  the  evolution 
of  the  popular  religion  of  the  future  as  did  those  earlier 
movements  in  their  day. 

But  I here  fear  that  I may  begin  to  ‘jar  upon  the 
nerves  ’ of  some  of  the  members  of  this  academic  audi- 
ence. Such  contemporary  vagaries,  you  may  think, 

^ It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  school  of  Mr.  Dresser,  which  assumes 
more  and  more  the  form  of  mind-cure  experience  and  academic  philosophy 
mutually  impregnating  each  other,  will  score  the  practical  triumphs  of  the 
teas  critical  and  rational  sects. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS  109 

should  hardly  take  so  large  a place  in  dignified  Gifford 
lectures.  I can  only  beseech  you  to  have  patience.  The 
whole  outcome  of  these  lectures  will,  I imagine,  be  the 
emphasizing  to  your  mind  of  the  enormous  diversities 
which  the  spiritual  lives  of  different  men  exhibit.  Their 
wants,  their  susceptibilities,  and  their  capacities  all  vary 
and  must  be  classed  under  different  heads.  The  result 
is  that  we  have  really  different  types  of  religious  expe- 
rience  ; and,  seeking  in  these  lectures  closer  acquaint- 
ance with  the  healthy-minded  type,  we  must  take  it  where 
we  find  it  in  most  radical  form.  The  psychology  of  in- 
dividual types  of  character  has  hardly  begun  even  to  be 
sketched  as  yet  — our  lectures  may  possibly  serve  as  a 
crumb-like  contribution  to  the  structure.  The  first  thing 
to  bear  in  mind  (especially  if  we  ourselves  belong  to  the 
clerico-academic-scientific  type,  the  officially  and  conven- 
tionally ‘ correct  ’ type,  ‘ the  deadly  respectable  ’ type,  for 
which  to  ignore  others  is  a besetting  temptation)  is  that 
nothing  can  be  more  stupid  than  to  bar  out  phenomena 
from  our  notice,  merely  because  we  are  incapable  of  tak- 
ing part  in  anything  like  them  ourselves. 

Now  the  history  of  Lutheran  salvation  by  faith,  of 
methodistic  conversions,  and  of  what  I call  the  mind-cure 
movement  seems  to  prove  the  existence  of  numerous  per- 
sons in  whom  — at  any  rate  at  a certain  stage  in  their 
development  — a change  of  character  for  the  better,  so 
far  from  being  facilitated  by  the  rules  laid  down  by  offi- 
cial moralists,  will  take  place  all  the  more  successfully  if 
those  rules  be  exactly  reversed.  Official  moralists  advise 
us  never  to  relax  our  strenuousness.  “ Be  vigilant,  day 
and  night,”  they  adjure  us ; “ hold  your  passive  tenden- 
cies in  check  ; shrink  from  no  effort ; keep  your  will  like 
a bow  always  bent.”  But  the  persons  I speak  of  find 
that  all  this  conscious  effort  leads  to  nothing  but  failure 


110  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

and  vexation  in  their  hands,  and  only  makes  them  two* 
fold  more  the  children  of  hell  they  were  before.  The 
tense  and  voluntary  attitude  becomes  in  them  an  impos- 
sible fever  and  torment.  Their  machinery  refuses  to  run 
at  all  when  the  bearings  are  made  so  hot  and  the  belts 
so  tight. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  way  to  success,  as 
vouched  for  by  innumerable  authentic  personal  narra- 
tions, is  by  an  anti-moralistic  method,  by  the  ‘ surrender  ’ 
of  which  I spoke  in  my  second  lecture.  Passivity,  not 
activity  ; relaxation,  not  intentness,  should  be  now  the 
rule.  Give  up  the  feeling  of  responsibility,  let  go  your 
hold,  resign  the  care  of  your  destiny  to  higher  powers, 
be  genuinely  indifferent  as  to  what  becomes  of  it  all,  and 
you  will  find  not  only  that  you  gain  a perfect  inward  re- 
lief, but  often  also,  in  addition,  the  particular  goods  you 
sincerely  thought  you  were  renouncing.  This  is  the  sal- 
vation through  self-despair,  the  dying  to  be  truly  born, 
of  Lutheran  theology,  the  passage  into  nothing  of  which 
Jacob  Behmen  writes.  To  get  to  it,  a critical  point  must 
usually  he  passed,  a corner  turned  within  one.  Some- 
thing must  give  way,  a native  hardness  must  break  down 
and  liquefy  ; and  this  event  (as  we  shall  abundantly  see 
hereafter)  is  frequently  sudden  and  automatic,  and  leaves 
on  the  Subject  an  impression  that  he  has  been  wrought 
on  by  an  external  power. 

Whatever  its  ultimate  significance  may  prove  to  be, 
this  is  certainly  one  fundamental  form  of  human  expe- 
rience. Some  say  that  the  capacity  or  incapacity  for  it 
is  what  divides  the  religious  from  the  merely  moralistic 
character.  With  those  who  undergo  it  in  its  fullness,  no 
criticism  avails  to  cast  doubt  on  its  reality.  They  know  ; 
for  they  have  actually  the  higher  powers,  in  giving 
up  the  tension  of  their  personal  will. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


111 


A story  which  revivalist  preachers  often  tell  is  that  of 
a man  who  found  himself  at  night  slipping  down  the  side 
of  a precipice.  At  last  he  caught  a branch  which  stopped 
his  fall,  and  remained  clinging  to  it  in  misery  for  hours. 
But  finally  his  fingers  had  to  loose  their  hold,  and  with  a 
despairing  farewell  to  life,  he  let  himself  drop.  He  fell 
just  six  inches.  If  he  had  given  up  the  struggle  earlier, 
his  agony  would  have  been  spared.  As  the  mother  earth 
received  him,  so,  the  preachers  tell  us,  will  the  everlasting 
arms  receive  us  if  we  confide  absolutely  in  them,  and 
give  up  the  hereditary  habit  of  relying  on  our  personal 
strength,  with  its  precautions  that  cannot  shelter  and 
safeguards  that  never  save. 

The  mind-curers  have  given  the  widest  scope  to  this 
sort  of  experience.  They  have  demonstrated  that  a form 
of  regeneration  by  relaxing,  by  letting  go,  psychologically 
indistinguishable  from  the  Lutheran  justification  by  faith 
and  the  Wesleyan  acceptance  of  free  grace,  is  within 
the  reach  of  persons  who  have  no  conviction  of  sin  and 
care  nothing  for  the  Lutheran  theology.  It  is  but  giving 
your  little  private  convulsive  self  a rest,  and  finding  that 
a greater  Self  is  there.  The  results,  slow  or  sudden,  or 
great  or  small,  of  the  combined  optimism  and  expectancy, 
the  regenerative  phenomena  which  ensue  on  the  abandon- 
ment of  effort,  remain  firm  facts  of  human  nature,  no 
matter  whether  we  adopt  a theistic,  a pantheistic-idealis- 
tic, or  a medical-materialistic  view  of  their  ultimate  causal 
explanation.^ 

^ The  theistic  explanation  is  by  divine  grace,  which  creates  a new  nature 
within  one  the  moment  the  old  nature  is  sincerely  given  up.  The  pantheis- 
tic explanation  (which  is  that  of  most  mind-curers)  is  by  the  merging  of 
the  narrower  private  self  into  the  wider  or  greater  self,  the  spirit  of  the 
universe  (which  is  your  own  ‘ subconscious  ’ self),  the  moment  the  isolating 
barriers  of  mistrust  and  anxiety  are  removed.  The  medico-materialistic 
explanation  is  that  simpler  cerebral  processes  act  more  freely  where  they 
are  left  to  act  automatically  by  the  shuntmg-out  of  physiologically  (thougn 


11£  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

When  we  take  up  the  phenomena  of  revivalistic  con- 
version, we  shall  learn  something  more  about  all  this. 
Meanwhile  I will  say  a brief  word  about  the  mind-curer’s 
methods. 

They  are  of  course  largely  suggestive.  The  sugges- 
tive influence  of  environment  plays  an  enormous  part 
in  all  spiritual  education.  But  the  word  ‘ suggestion,’ 
having  acquired  official  status,  is  unfortunately  already 
beginning  to  play  in  many  quarters  the  part  of  a wet 
blanket  upon  investigation,  being  used  to  fend  off  all 
inquiry  into  the  varying  susceptibilities  of  individual 
cases.  ‘ Suggestion  ’ is  only  another  name  for  the  power 
of  ideas,  so  far  as  they  prove  efficacious  over  belief  and 
conduct.  Ideas  efficacious  over  some  people  prove  ineffi- 
cacious over  others.  Ideas  efficacious  at  some  times  and 
in  some  human  surroundings  are  not  so  at  other  times 
and  elsewhere.  The  ideas  of  Christian  churches  are  not 
efficacious  in  the  therapeutic  direction  to-day,  whatever 
they  may  have  been  in  earlier  centuries ; and  when  the 
whole  question  is  as  to  why  the  salt  has  lost  its  savor 
here  or  gained  it  there,  the  mere  blank  waving  of  the 
word  ‘ suggestion  ’ as  if  it  were  a banner  gives  no  light. 
Dr.  Goddard,  whose  candid  psychological  essay  on  Faith 
Cures  ascribes  them  to  nothing  but  ordinary  suggestion, 
concludes  by  saying  that  “ Religion  [and  by  this  he 
seems  to  mean  our  popular  Christianity]  has  in  it  all 
there  is  in  mental  therapeutics,  and  has  it  in  its  best 
form.  Living  up  to  [our  religious]  ideas  will  do  any- 
thing for  us  that  can  be  done.”  And  this  in  spite  of 
the  actual  fact  that  the  popular  Christianity  does  abso- 

in  this  instance  not  spiritually)  ‘higher’  ones  which,  seeking  to  regulate, 
only  succeed  in  inhibiting  results.  — Whether  this  third  explanation  might, 
in  a psycho-physical  account  of  the  universe,  be  combined  with  either  of  the 
others  may  be  left  an  open  question  here. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


113 


lutely  nothing,  or  did  nothing  until  mind-cure  came  to 
the  rescue/ 

An  idea,  to  he  suggestive,  must  come  to  the  individual 
with  the  force  of  a revelation.  The  mind-cure  with  its 
gospel  of  healthy-mindedness  has  come  as  a revelation 
to  many  whose  hearts  the  church  Christianity  had  left 
hardened.  It  has  let  loose  their  springs  of  higher  hfe. 

1 Within  the  churches  a disposition  has  always  prevailed  to  regard  sick- 
ness as  a visitation ; something  sent  by  God  for  our  good,  either  as  chastise- 
ment, as  warning,  or  as  opportunity  for  exercising  virtue,  and,  in  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  of  earning  ‘ merit.’  “ Illness,”  says  a good  Catholic  writer  (P. 
Lejeune  : Introd.  k la  Vie  Mystique,  1899,  p.  218),  “is  the  most  excellent  of 
corporeal  mortifications,  the  mortification  which  one  has  not  one’s  self  chosen, 
which  is  imposed  directly  by  God,  and  is  the  direct  expression  of  his  will. 
‘ If  other  mortifications  are  of  silver,’  Mgr.  Gay  says,  ‘ this  one  is  of  gold  ; 
since  although  it  comes  of  ourselves,  coming  as  it  does  of  original  sin,  still 
on  its  greater  side,  as  coming  (like  all  that  happens)  from  the  providence 
of  God,  it  is  of  divine  manufacture.  And  how  just  are  its  blows  ! And 
how  efficacious  it  is  ! ...  I do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  patience  in  a long 
illness  is  mortification’s  very  masterpiece,  and  consequently  the  triumph  of 
mortified  souls.’  ” According  to  this  view,  disease  should  in  any  case  be 
submissively  accepted,  and  it  might  under  certain  circumstances  even  be 
blasphemous  to  wish  it  away. 

Of  course  there  have  been  exceptions  to  this,  and  cures  by  special  miracle 
have  at  all  times  been  recognized  within  the  church’s  pale,  almost  all  the 
great  saints  having  more  or  less  performed  them.  It  was  one  of  the  here- 
sies of  Edward  Irving,  to  maintain  them  still  to  be  possible.  An  extremely 
pure  faculty  of  healing  after  confession  and  conversion  on  the  patient’s 
part,  and  prayer  on  the  priest’s,  was  quite  spontaneously  developed  in  the 
German  pastor,  Joh.  Christoph  Blumhardt,  in  the  early  forties  and  exerted 
during  nearly  thirty  years.  Blumhardt’s  Life  by  Ziindel  (5th  edition, 
Zurich,  1887)  gives  in  chapters  ix.,  x.,  xi.,  and  xvii.  a pretty  full  account 
of  his  healing  activity,  which  he  invariably  ascribed  to  direct  divine  inter- 
position. Blumhardt  was  a singularly  pure,  simple,  and  non-fanatical  char- 
acter, and  in  this  part  of  his  work  followed  no  previous  model.  In  Chicago 
to-day  we  have  the  case  of  Dr.  J.  A.  Dowie,  a Scottish  Baptist  preacher, 
whose  weekly  ‘ Leaves  of  Healing  ’ were  in  the  year  of  grace  1900  in  their 
sixth  volume,  and  who,  although  he  denounces  the  cures  wrought  in  other 
sects  as  ‘ diabolical  counterfeits  ’ of  his  own  exclusively  ‘ Divine  Healing,’ 
must  on  the  whole  be  counted  into  the  mind-cure  movement.  In  mind-cure 
circles  the  fundamental  article  of  faith  is  that  disease  should  never  be 
accepted.  It  is  wholly  of  the  pit.  God  wants  us  to  be  absolutely  healthy, 
and  we  should  not  tolerate  ourselves  on  any  lower  terms. 


114  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


In  what  can  the  oi’iginality  of  any  religious  movement 
consist,  save  in  finding  a channel,  until  then  sealed  up, 
through  which  those  springs  may  be  set  free  in  some 
group  of  human  beings  ? 

The  force  of  personal  faith,  enthusiasm,  and  example, 
and  above  all  the  force  of  novelty,  are  always  the  prime 
suggestive  agency  in  this  kind  of  success.  If  mind-cure 
shoidd  ever  become  official,  respectable,  and  intrenched, 
these  elements  of  suggestive  efficacy  will  be  lost.  In  its 
acuter  stages  every  religion  must  be  a homeless  Arab  of 
the  desert.  The  church  knows  this  well  enough,  with 
its  everlasting  inner  struggle  of  the  acute  religion  of  the 
few  against  the  chronic  religion  of  the  many,  indurated 
into  an  obstructiveness  worse  than  that  which  irreligion 
opposes  to  the  movings  of  the  Spirit.  “We  may  pray,” 
says  Jonathan  Edwards,  “concerning  all  those  saints 
that  are  not  lively  Christians,  that  they  may  either  be 
enlivened,  or  taken  away ; if  that  be  true  that  is  often 
said  by  some  at  this  day,  that  these  cold  dead  saints  do 
more  hurt  than  natural  men,  and  lead  more  souls  to  hell, 
and  that  it  would  be  well  for  mankind  if  they  were  all 
dead.”  1 

The  next  condition  of  success  is  the  apparent  exist- 
ence, in  large  numbers,  of  minds  who  unite  healthy- 
mindedness  with  readiness  for  regeneration  by  letting  go. 
Protestantism  has  been  too  pessimistic  as  regards  the 
natural  man,  Catholicism  has  been  too  legalistic  and 
morahstic,  for  either  the  one  or  the  other  to  appeal  in 
any  generous  way  to  the  type  of  character  formed  of  this 
peculiar  mingling  of  elements.  However  few  of  us  here 
present  may  belong  to  such  a type,  it  is  now  evident  that 

1 Edwards,  from  whose  book  on  the  Revival  in  New  England  I quote 
these  words,  dissuades  from  such  a use  of  prayer,  but  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
he  enjoys  making  his  thrust  at  the  cold  dead  church  members. 


THE  KELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


115 


it  forms  a speciJ&c  moral  combination,  well  represented  in 
the  world. 

Finally,  mind-cure  has  made  what  in  our  protestant 
countries  is  an  unprecedentedly  great  use  of  the  subcon- 
scious life.  To  their  reasoned  advice  and  dogmatic 
assertion,  its  founders  have  added  systematic  exercise  in 
passive  relaxation,  concentration,  and  meditation,  and 
have  even  invoked  something  like  hypnotic  practice.  I 
quote  some  passages  at  random  : — 

“ The  value,  the  potency  of  ideals  is  the  great  practical  truth 
on  which  the  New  Thought  most  strongly  insists,  — the  devel- 
opment namely  from  within  outward,  from  small  to  great.^ 
Consequently  one’s  thought  should  be  centred  on  the  ideal 
outcome,  even  though  this  trust  be  literally  like  a step  in  the 
dark.^  To  attain  the  ability  thus  effectively  to  direct  the  mind, 
the  New  Thought  advises  the  practice  of  concentration,  or  in 
other  words,  the  attainment  of  self-control.  One  is  to  learn  to 
marshal  the  tendencies  of  the  mind,  so  that  they  may  be  held 
together  as  a unit  by  the  chosen  ideal.  To  this  end,  one  should 
set  apart  times  for  silent  meditation,  by  one’s  self,  preferably 
in  a room  where  the  surroundings  are  favorable  to  spiritual 
thought.  In  New  Thought  terms,  this  is  called  ‘ entering  the 
silence.’  ” ® 

“ The  time  will  come  when  in  the  busy  office  or  on  the  noisy 
street  you  can  enter  into  the  silence  by  simply  drawing  the 
mantle  of  your  own  thoughts  about  you  and  realizing  that 
there  and  everywhere  the  Spirit  of  Infinite  Life,  Love,  Wis- 
dom, Peace,  Power,  and  Plenty  is  guiding,  keeping,  protecting, 
leading  you.  This  is  the  spirit  of  continual  prayer.^  One  of 
the  most  intuitive  men  we  ever  met  had  a desk  at  a city  office 
where  several  other  gentlemen  were  doing  business  constantly, 
and  often  talking  loudly.  Entirely  undisturbed  by  the  many 
various  sounds  about  him,  this  self-centred  faithful  man  would, 

^ H.  W.  Dkesser  : Voices  of  Freedom,  46. 

^ Dresser  : Living  by  the  Spirit,  58. 

® Dresser  : Voices  of  Freedom,  S3. 

Trine  : In  Tune  with  the  Infinite,  p.  214. 


116  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


in  any  moment  of  perplexity,  draw  the  curtains  of  privacy  so 
completely  about  him  that  he  would  be  as  fully  inclosed  in  his 
own  psychic  aura,  and  thereby  as  effectually  removed  from  all 
distractions,  as  though  he  were  alone  in  some  primeval  wood. 
Taking  his  difficulty  with  him  into  the  mystic  silence  in  the 
form  of  a direct  question,  to  which  he  expected  a certain  an- 
swer, he  would  remain  utterly  passive  until  the  reply  came, 
and  never  once  through  many  years’  experience  did  he  find 
himself  disappointed  or  misled.”  ^ 

Wherein,  I should  like  to  know,  does  this  intrinsically 
differ  from  the  practice  of  ‘ recollection  ’ which  plays  so 
great  a part  in  Catholic  discipline  ? Otherwise  called  the 
practice  of  the  presence  of  God  (and  so  known  among 
ourselves,  as  for  instance  in  Jeremy  Taylor),  it  is  thus 
defined  by  the  eminent  teacher  Alvarez  de  Paz  in  his 
work  on  Contemplation. 

“ It  is  the  recollection  of  God,  the  thought  of  God,  which  in 
all  places  and  circumstances  makes  us  see  him  present,  lets  us 
commune  respectfully  and  lovingly  with  him,  and  fills  us  with 
desire  and  affection  for  him.  . . . Would  you  escape  from 
every  ill  ? Never  lose  this  recollection  of  God,  neither  in  pros- 
perity nor  in  adversity,  nor  on  any  occasion  whichsoever  it  be. 
Invoke  not,  to  excuse  yourself  from  this  duty,  either  the  diffi- 
culty or  the  importance  of  your  business,  for  you  can  always 
remember  that  God  sees  you,  that  you  are  under  his  eye.  If  a 
thousand  times  an  hour  you  forget  him,  reanimate  a thousand 
times  the  recollection.  If  you  cannot  practice  this  exercise 
continuously,  at  least  make  yourself  as  familiar  with  it  as  pos- 
sible ; and,  like  unto  those  who  in  a rigorous  winter  di’aw  near 
the  fire  as  often  as  they  can,  go  as  often  as  you  can  to  that 
ardent  fire  which  will  warm  your  soul.”  ^ 

All  the  external  associations  of  the  Catholic  discipline 
are  of  course  unlike  anything  in  mind-cure  thought,  but 
the  purely  spiritual  part  of  the  exercise  is  identical  in 

1 Trine  : p.  117. 

2 Quoted  by  Lejeune  ; Introd.  k la  Vie  Mystique,  1899,  p.  66. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY  MINDEDNESS 


117 


both  communions,  and  in  both  communions  those  who 
urge  it  write  with  authority,  for  they  have  evidently  ex- 
perienced in  their  own  persons  that  whereof  they  tell. 
Compare  again  some  mind-cure  utterances  : — 

“ High,  healthful,  pure  thinking  can  be  encouraged,  pro- 
moted, and  strengthened.  Its  current  can  be  turned  upon 
grand  ideals  until  it  forms  a habit  and  wears  a channel.  By 
means  of  such  discipline  the  mental  horizon  can  be  flooded 
with  the  sunshine  of  beauty,  wholeness,  and  harmony.  To 
inaugurate  j^ure  and  lofty  thinking  may  at  first  seem  difficult, 
even  almost  mechanical,  but  perseverance  will  at  length  render 
it  easy,  then  pleasant,  and  finally  delightful. 

“ The  soul’s  real  world  is  that  which  it  has  built  of  its 
thoughts,  mental  states,  and  imaginations.  If  we  will^  we  can 
turn  our  backs  upon  the  lower  and  sensuous  plane,  and  lift  our- 
selves into  the  realm  of  the  spiritual  and  Real,  and  there 
gain  a residence.  The  assumption  of  states  of  expectancy  and 
receptivity  will  attract  spiritual  sunshine,  and  it  will  flow  in 
as  naturally  as  air  inclines  to  a vacuum.  . . . Whenever  the 
thought  is  not  occupied  with  one’s  daily  duty  or  profession,  it 
should  be  sent  aloft  into  the  spiritual  atmosphere.  There  are 
quiet  leisure  moments  by  day,  and  wakeful  hours  at  night, 
when  this  wholesome  and  delightful  exercise  may  be  engaged 
in  to  great  advantage.  If  one  who  has  never  made  any  system- 
atic effort  to  lift  and  control  the  thought-forces  will,  for  a 
single  month,  earnestly  pursue  the  course  here  suggested,  he 
will  be  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  result,  and  nothing  will 
induce  him  to  go  back  to  careless,  aimless,  and  superficial 
thinking.  At  such  favorable  seasons  the  outside  world,  with 
all  its  current  of  daily  events,  is  barred  out,  and  one  goes  into 
the  silent  sanctuary  of  the  inner  temple  of  soul  to  commune 
and  aspire.  The  spiritual  hearing  becomes  delicately  sensitive, 
so  that  the  ‘ still,  small  voice  ’ is  audible,  the  tumultuous  waves 
of  external  sense  are  hushed,  and  there  is  a great  calm.  The 
ego  gradually  becomes  conscious  that  it  is  face  to  face  with  the 
Divine  Presence  ; that  mighty,  healing,  loving,  Fatherly  life 
which  is  nearer  to  us  than  we  are  to  ourselves.  There  is  soul- 


118  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


contact  with  the  Parent-Soul,  and  an  influx  of  life,  love,  virtue, 
health,  and  happiness  from  the  Inexhaustible  Fountain.”^ 

When  we  reach  the  subject  of  mysticism,  you  will 
undergo  so  deep  an  immersion  into  these  exalted  states 
of  consciousness  as  to  be  wet  all  over,  if  I may  so  express 
myself ; and  the  cold  shiver  of  doubt  with  which  this 
httle  sprinkling  may  affect  you  will  have  long  since 
passed  away — doubt,  I mean,  as  to  whether  all  such 
writing  be  not  mere  abstract  talk  and  rhetoric  set  down 
pour  encourager  les  autres.  You  will  then  be  con- 
vinced, I trust,  that  these  states  of  consciousness  of 
‘ union  ’ form  a perfectly  definite  class  of  experiences, 
of  which  the  soul  may  occasionally  partake,  and  which 
certain  persons  may  live  by  in  a deeper  sense  than  they 
live  by  anything  else  with  which  they  have  acquaintance. 
This  brings  me  to  a general  philosophical  reflection  with 
which  I should  like  to  pass  from  the  subject  of  healthy- 
mindedness,  and  close  a topic  which  I fear  is  already 
only  too  long  drawn  out.  It  concerns  the  relation  of  aU 
this  systematized  healthy-mindedness  and  mind-cure  re- 
ligion to  scientific  method  and  the  scientific  life. 


In  a later  lecture  I shall  have  to  treat  explicitly  of  the 
relation  of  religion  to  science  on  the  one  hand,  and  to 
primeval  savage  thought  on  the  other.  There  are  plenty 
of  persons  to-day  — ‘ scientists  ’ or  ‘ positivists,’  they  are 
fond  of  calling  themselves  — who  will  tell  you  that  reli- 
gious thought  is  a mere  survival,  an  atavistic  reversion 
to  a type  of  consciousness  which  humanity  in  its  more 
enlightened  examples  has  long  since  left  behind  and  out- 
grown. If  you  ask  them  to  explain  themselves  more 
fully,  they  will  probably  say  that  for  primitive  thought 

1 Henry  Wood  ; Ideal  Suggestion  through  Mental  Photography,  pp.  51, 
70  (abridged). 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


119 


everything  is  conceived  of  under  the  form  of  personality. 
The  savage  thinks  that  things  operate  by  personal  forces, 
and  for  the  sake  of  individual  ends.  For  him,  even  exter- 
nal nature  obeys  individual  needs  and  claims,  just  as  if 
these  were  so  many  elementary  powers.  Now  science,  on 
the  other  hand,  these  positivists  say,  has  proved  that 
personality,  so  far  from  being  an  elementary  force  in 
nature,  is  but  a passive  resultant  of  the  really  elementary 
forces,  physical,  chemical,  physiological,  and  psycho-phy- 
sical, which  are  all  impersonal  and  general  in  character. 
Nothing  individual  accomplishes  anything  in  the  universe 
save  in  so  far  as  it  obeys  and  exempHfies  some  universal 
law.  Should  you  then  inquire  of  them  by  what  means  sci- 
ence has  thus  supplanted  primitive  thought,  and  discredited 
its  personal  way  of  looking  at  things,  they  would  un- 
doubtedly say  it  has  been  by  the  strict  use  of  the  method 
of  experimental  verification.  Follow  out  science’s  concep- 
tions practically,  they  will  say,  the  conceptions  that  ignore 
personality  altogether,  and  you  will  always  be  corrobo- 
rated. The  world  is  so  made  that  all  your  expectations 
will  be  experientially  verified  so  long,  and  only  so  long, 
as  you  keep  the  terms  from  which  you  infer  them  imper- 
sonal and  universal. 

But  here  we  have  mind-cure,  with  her  diametrically 
opposite  philosophy,  setting  up  an  exactly  identical  claim. 
Live  as  if  I were  true,  she  says,  and  every  day  will  practi- 
cally prove  you  right.  That  the  controlling  energies  of 
nature  are  personal,  that  your  own  personal  thoughts  are. 
forces,  that  the  powers  of  the  universe  wiU  directly  re- 
spond to  your  individual  appeals  and  needs,  are  proposi- 
tions which  your  whole  bodily  and  mental  experience  wiR 
verify.  And  that  experience  does  largely  verify  these 
primeval  religious  ideas  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  the 
mind-cure  movement  spreads  as  it  does,  not  by  proclama- 


120  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


tion  and  assertion  simply,  but  by  palpable  experiential 
results.  Here,  in  the  very  heyday  of  science’s  authority, 
it  carries  on  an  aggressive  warfare  against  the  scientific 
philosophy,  and  succeeds  by  using  science’s  own  pe- 
culiar methods  and  weapons.  Believing  that  a higher 
power  will  take  care  of  us  in  certain  ways  better  than  we 
can  take  care  of  ourselves,  if  we  only  genuinely  throw 
ourselves  upon  it  and  consent  to  use  it,  it  finds  the 
belief,  not  only  not  impugned,  but  corroborated  by  its 
observation. 

How  conversions  are  thus  made,  and  converts  con- 
firmed, is  evident  enough  from  the  narratives  which  I 
have  quoted.  I will  quote  yet  another  couple  of  shorter 
ones  to  give  the  matter  a perfectly  concrete  turn.  Here 
is  one  : — 

“ One  of  my  first  experiences  in  applying  my  teaching  was 
two  months  after  I first  saw  the  healer.  I fell,  spraining  my 
right  ankle,  which  I had  done  once  four  years  before,  having 
then  had  to  use  a crutch  and  elastic  anklet  for  some  months, 
and  carefully  guarding  it  ever  since.  As  soon  as  I was  on  my 
feet  I made  the  positive  suggestion  (and  felt  it  through  all  my 
being)  : ‘ There  is  nothing  but  God,  all  life  comes  from  him 
perfectly.  I cannot  be  sprained  or  hurt,  I will  let  him  take  care 
of  it.’  Well,  I never  had  a sensation  in  it,  and  I walked  two 
miles  that  day.” 

The  next  case  not  only  illustrates  experiment  and  veri- 
fication, but  also  the  element  of  passivity  and  surrender 
of  which  awhile  ago  I made  such  account. 

“ I went  into  town  to  do  some  shopping  one  morning,  and  I 
had  not  been  gone  long  before  I began  to  feel  ill.  The  ill  feel- 
ing increased  rapidly,  until  I had  pains  in  all  my  bones,  nausea 
and  faintness,  headache,  all  the  symptoms  in  short  that  precede 
an  attack  of  influenza.  I thought  that  I was  going  to  have  the 
grippe,  epidemic  then  in  Boston,  or  something  worse.  The 
mind-cure  teachings  that  I had  been  listening  to  all  the  winter 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


121 


thereupon  came  into  my  mind,  and  I thought  that  here  was  an 
opportunity  to  test  myself.  On  my  way  home  I met  a friend, 
and  I refrained  with  some  effort  from  telling  her  how  I felt. 
That  was  the  first  step  gained.  I went  to  bed  immediately, 
and  my  husband  wished  to  send  for  the  doctor.  But  I told 
him  that  I would  rather  wait  until  morning  and  see  how  I felt. 
Then  followed  one  of  the  most  beautiful  experiences  of  my  life. 

“ I cannot  express  it  in  any  other  way  than  to  say  that  I did 
‘ lie  down  in  the  stream  of  life  and  let  it  flow  over  me.’  I gave 
up  all  fear  of  any  impending  disease ; I was  perfectly  willing 
and  obedient.  There  was  no  intellectual  effort,  or  train  of 
thought.  My  dominant  idea  was : ‘ Behold  the  handmaid  of 
the  Lord  : be  it  unto  me  even  as  thou  wilt,’  and  a perfect  con- 
fidence that  all  would  be  well,  that  all  was  well.  The  creative 
life  was  flowing  into  me  every  instant,  and  I felt  myself  allied 
with  the  Infinite,  in  harmony,  and  full  of  the  peace  that  pass- 
eth  understanding.  There  was  no  place  in  my  mind  for  a jar- 
ring body.  I had  no  consciousness  of  time  or  space  or  persons ; 
but  only  of  love  and  happiness  and  faith. 

“ I do  not  know  how  long  this  state  lasted,  nor  when  I fell 
asleep  ; but  when  I woke  up  in  the  morning,  I was  well^ 

These  are  exceedingly  trivial  instances,*  but  in  them, 
if  we  have  anything  at  all,  we  have  the  method  of  exper^ 
iment  and  verification.  For  the  point  I am  driving 
at  now,  it  makes  no  difference  whether  you  consider  the 
patients  to  be  deluded  victims  of  their  imagination  or  not. 
That  they  seemed  to  theinselves  to  have  been  cured  by 
the  experiments  tried  was  enough  to  make  them  converts 
to  the  system.  And  although  it  is  evident  that  one  must 
be  of  a certain  mental  movdd  to  get  such  results  (for 
not  every  one  can  get  thus  cured  to  his  own  satisfaction 
any  more  than  every  one  can  be  cured  by  the  first  regu- 
lar practitioner  whom  he  calls  in),  yet  it  would  surely  be 
pedantic  and  over-scrupulous  for  those  who  can  get  their 
savage  and  primitive  philosophy  of  mental  healing  veri- 

1 See  Appendix  to  this  lecture  for  two  other  cases  furnished  me  by  friends. 


122  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

fied  in  such  experimental  ways  as  this,  to  give  them  up 
at  word  of  command  for  more  scientific  therapeutics. 
What  are  we  to  think  of  all  this  ? Has  science  made 
too  wide  a claim  ? 

1 believe  that  the  claims  of  the  sectarian  scientist  are, 
to  say  the  least,  premature.  The  experiences  which  we 
have  been  studying  during  this  hour  (and  a great  many 
other  kinds  of  religious  experiences  are  like  them)  plainly 
show  the  universe  to  be  a more  many-sided  aflair  than 
any  sect,  even  the  scientific  sect,  allows  for.  What,  in 
the  end,  are  all  our  verifications  but  experiences  that 
agree  with  more  or  less  isolated  systems  of  ideas  (concep- 
tual systems)  that  our  minds  have  framed  ? But  why  in 
the  name  of  common  sense  need  we  assume  that  only 
one  such  system  of  ideas  can  be  true  ? The  obvious  out- 
come of  our  total  experience  is  that  the  world  can  be 
handled  according  to  many  systems  of  ideas,  and  is  so 
handled  by  different  men,  and  will  each  time  give  some 
characteristic  kind  of  profit,  for  which  he  cares,  to  the 
handler,  while  at  the  same  time  some  other  kind  of  profit 
has  to  be  omitted  or  postponed.  Science  gives  to  all  of 
us  telegraphy,  electric  lighting,  and  diagnosis,  and  suc- 
ceeds in  preventing  and  curing  a certain  amount  of  dis- 
ease. Religion  in  the  shape  of  mind-cure  gives  to  some 
of  us  serenity,  moral  poise,  and  happiness,  and  prevents 
certain  forms  of  disease  as  well  as  science  does,  or  even 
better  in  a certain  class  of  persons.  Evidently,  then,  the 
science  and  the  religion  are  both  of  them  genuine  keys 
for  unlocking-  the  world’s  treasure-house  to  him  who  can 
use  either  of  them  practically.  Just  as  evidently  neither 
is  exhaustive  or  exclusive  of  the  other’s  simultaneous  use. 
And  why,  after  all,  may  not  the  world  be  so  complex  as 
to  consist  of  many  interpenetrating  spheres  of  reality, 
which  we  can  thus  approach  in  alternation  by  using  dif- 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HEALTHY-MINDEDNESS 


123 


ferent  conceptions  and  assuming  diiferent  attitudes,  just 
as  mathematicians  handle  the  same  numerical  and  spatial 
facts  by  geometry,  by  analytical  geometry,  by  algebra, 
by  the  calculus,  or  by  quaternions,  and  each  time  come 
out  right  ? On  this  view  religion  and  science,  each  veri- 
fied in  its  own  way  from  hour  to  hour  and  from  life  to 
life,  would  be  co-eternal.  Primitive  thought,  with  its 
behef  in  individualized  personal  forces,  seems  at  any  rate 
as  far  as  ever  from  being  driven  by  science  from  the  field 
to-day.  Numbers  of  educated  people  still  find  it  the 
directest  experimental  channel  by  which  to  carry  on  their 
intercourse  with  reality.^ 

The  case  of  mind-cure  lay  so  ready  to  my  hand  that  I 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  using  it  to  bring  these 
last  truths  home  to  your  attention,  but  I must  content 
myself  to-day  with  this  very  brief  indication.  In  a later 
lecture  the  relations  of  religion  both  to  science  and  to 
primitive  thought  will  have  to  receive  much  more  explicit 
attention. 


APPENDIX 
(See  note  to  p.  121.) 

Case  I.  “ My  own  experience  is  this  : I had  long  been  ill, 
and  one  of  the  first  results  of  my  illness,  a dozen  years  before, 
had  been  a diplopia  which  deprived  me  of  the  use  of  my  eyes 
for  reading  and  writing  almost  entirely,  while  a later  one  had 
been  to  shut  me  out  from  exercise  of  any  kind  under  penalty  of 

1 Whether  the  various  spheres  or  systems  are  ever  to  fuse  integrally  into 
one  absolute  conception,  as  most  philosophers  assume  that  they  must,  and 
how,  if  so,  that  conception  may  best  be  reached,  are  questions  that  only  the 
future  can  answer.  What  is  certain  now  is  the  fact  of  lines  of  disparate 
conception,  each  corresponding  to  some  part  of  the  world’s  truth,  each  veri- 
fied in  some  degree,  each  leaving  out  some  part  of  real  experience. 


124  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


immediate  and  great  exhaustion.  I had  been  under  the  care 
of  doctors  of  the  highest  standing  both  in  Europe  and  America, 
men  in  whose  power  to  help  me  1 liad  had  great  faith,  with  no  or 
ill  result.  Then,  at  a time  when  I seemed  to  be  rather  rapidly- 
losing  ground,  I heard  some  things  that  gave  me  interest 
enough  in  mental  healing  to  make  me  try  it ; I had  no  great 
hope  of  getting  any  good  from  it  — it  was  a chance  I tried, 
partly  because  my  thought  was  interested  by  the  new  possibility 
it  seemed  to  open,  partly  because  it  was  the  only  chance  I then 
could  see.  I went  to  X.  in  Boston,  from  whom  some  friends 
of  mine  had  got,  or  thought  that  they  had  got,  great  help  ; the 
treatment  was  a silent  one  ; little  was  said,  and  that  little  car- 
ried no  conviction  to  my  mind  ; whatever  influence  was  exerted 
was  that  of  another  person’s  thought  or  feeling  silently  pro- 
jected on  to  my  unconscious  mind,  into  my  nervous  system  as  it 
were,  as  we  sat  still  together.  I believed  from  the  start  in  the 
possibility  of  such  action,  for  I knew  the  power  of  the  mind  to 
shape,  helping  or  hindering,  the  body’s  nerve-activities,  and  I 
thought  telepathy  probable,  although  unproved,  but  I had  no 
belief  in  it  as  more  than  a possibility,  and  no  strong  conviction 
nor  any  mystic  or  religious  faith  connected  with  my  thought  of 
it  that  might  have  brought  imagination  strongly  into  play. 

“ I sat  quietly  with  the  healer  for  half  an  hour  each  day,  at 
first  with  no  result ; then,  after  ten  days  or  so,  I became  quite 
suddenly  and  swiftly  conscious  of  a tide  of  new  energy  rising 
within  me,  a sense  of  power  to  pass  beyond  old  halting-places, 
of  power  to  break  the  bounds  that,  though  often  tried  before, 
had  long  been  veritable  walls  about  my  life,  too  high  to  climb. 
I began  to  read  and  walk  as  I had  not  done  for  years,  and  the 
change  was  sudden,  marked,  and  unmistakable.  This  tide 
seemed  to  mount  for  some  weeks,  three  or  four  perhaps,  when, 
summer  having  come,  I came  away,  taking  the  treatment  up 
again  a few  months  later.  The  lift  I got  proved  permanent, 
and  left  me  slowly  gaining  ground  instead  of  losing  it,  but  with 
this  lift  the  influence  seemed  in  a way  to  have  spent  itself,  and, 
though  my  confidence  in  the  reality  of  the  power  had  gained 
immensely  from  this  first  experience,  and  should  have  helped 
me  to  make  further  gain  in  health  and  strength  if  my  belief  in 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HE ALTHY -MINDEDNESS 


126 


it  tad  been  the  potent  factor  there,  I never  after  this  got  any 
result  at  all  as  striking  or  as  clearly  marked  as  this  which  came 
when  I made  trial  of  it  first,  with  little  faith  and  doubtful 
expectation.  It  is  difficult  to  put  all  the  evidence  in  such  a 
matter  into  words,  to  gather  up  into  a distinct  statement  all 
that  one  bases  one’s  conclusions  on,  but  I have  always  felt  that 
I had  abundant  evidence  to  justify  (to  myself,  at  least)  the 
conclusion  that  I came  to  then,  and  since  have  held  to,  that  the 
physical  change  which  came  at  that  time  was,  first,  the  re- 
suit  of  a change  wrought  within  me  by  a change  of  mental 
state  ; and,  secondly,  that  that  change  of  mental  state  was  not„ 
save  in  a very  secondary  way,  brought  about  through  the  influ- 
ence of  an  excited  imagination,  or  a consciously  received  sug- 
gestion of  an  hypnotic  sort.  Lastly,  I believe  that  this  change 
was  the  result  of  my  receiving  telepathically,  and  upon  a mental 
stratum  quite  below  the  level  of  immediate  consciousness,  a 
healthier  and  more  energetic  attitude,  receiving  it  from  another 
person  whose  thought  was  directed  upon  me  with  the  intention 
of  impressing  the  idea  of  this  attitude  upon  me.  In  my  case 
the  disease  was  distinctly  what  would  be  classed  as  nervous,  not 
organic ; but  from  such  opportunities  as  I have  had  of  observ- 
ing, I have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  dividing  line  that 
has  been  drawn  is  an  arbitrary  one,  the  nerves  controlling  the 
internal  activities  and  the  nutrition  of  the  body  throughout ; 
and  I believe  that  the  central  nervous  system,  by  starting  and 
inhibiting  local  centres,  can  exercise  a vast  influence  upon  dis 
ease  of  any  kind,  if  it  can  be  brought  to  bear.  In  my  judg- 
ment  the  question  is  simply  how  to  bring  it  to  bear,  and  I think 
that  the  uncertainty  and  remarkable  differences  in  the  results 
obtained  through  mental  healing  do  but  show  how  ignorant  we 
are  as  yet  of  the  forces  at  work  and  of  the  means  we  should 
take  to  make  them  effective.  That  these  results  are  not  due  to 
chance  coincidences  my  observation  of  myself  and  others  makes 
me  sure  ; that  the  conscious  mind,  the  imagination,  enters  into 
them  as  a factor  in  many  cases  is  doubtless  true,  but  in  many 
others,  and  sometimes  very  extraordinary  ones,  it  hardly  seems 
to  enter  in  at  all.  On  the  whole  I am  inclined  to  think  that  as 
the  healing  action,  like  the  morbid  one,  springs  from  the  plane 


126  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  the  normally  w/iconscious  mind,  so  the  strongest  and  most 
effective  impressions  are  those  which  it  receives,  in  some  as  yet 
unknown,  subtle  way,  directly  from  a healthier  mind  whose 
state,  through  a hidden  law  of  sympathy,  it  reproduces.” 

Case  II.  “ At  the  urgent  request  of  friends,  and  with  no 
faith  and  hardly  any  hope  (possibly  owing  to  a previous  unsuc- 
cessful experience  with  a Christian  Scientist),  our  little  daugh- 
ter was  placed  under  the  care  of  a healer,  and  cured  of  a trouble 
about  which  the  physician  had  been  very  discouraging  in  his 
diagnosis.  This  interested  me,  and  I began  studying  earnestly 
the  method  and  philosophy  of  this  method  of  healing.  Gradu- 
ally an  inner  peace  and  tranquillity  came  to  me  in  so  positive 
a way  that  my  manner  changed  greatly.  My  children  and 
friends  noticed  the  change  and  commented  upon  it.  All  feel- 
ings of  irritability  disappeared.  Even  the  expression  of  my 
face  changed  noticeably. 

“I  had  been  bigoted,  aggressive,  and  intolerant  in  discus- 
sion, both  in  public  and  private.  I grew  broadly  tolerant  and 
receptive  toward  the  views  of  others.  I had  been  nervous  and 
irritable,  coming  home  two  or  three  times  a week  with  a 
sick  headache  induced,  as  I then  supposed,  by  dyspepsia  and 
catarrh.  I grew  serene  and  gentle,  and  the  physical  troubles 
entirely  disappeared.  I had  been  in  the  habit  of  approaching 
every  business  interview  with  an  almost  morbid  dread.  I now 
meet  every  one  with  confidence  and  inner  calm. 

“ I may  say  that  the  growth  has  all  been  toward  the  elimina- 
tion of  selfishness.  I do  not  mean  simply  the  grosser,  more 
sensual  forms,  but  those  subtler  and  generally  unrecognized 
kinds,  such  as  express  themselves  in  sorrow,  grief,  regret,  envy, 
etc.  It  has  been  in  the  direction  of  a practical,  working  real- 
ization of  the  immanence  of  God  and  the  Divinity  of  man’s 
true,  inner  self.” 


LECTURES  VI  AND  VH 


THE  SICK  SOUL 

AT  our  last  meeting,  we  considered  the  healthy-minded 
temperament,  the  temperament  which  has  a consti- 
tutional incapacity  for  prolonged  suffering,  and  in  which 
the  tendency  to  see  things  optimistically  is  like  a water 
of  crystallization  in  which  the  individual’s  character  is 
set.  We  saw  how  this  temperament  may  become  the 
basis  for  a peculiar  type  of  religion,  a religion  in  which 
good,  even  the  good  of  this  world’s  life,  is  regarded  as 
the  essential  thing  for  a rational  being  to  attend  to. 
This  religion  directs  him  to  settle  his  scores  with  the 
more  evil  aspects  of  the  universe  by  systematically  de- 
clining to  lay  them  to  heart  or  make  much  of  them,  by 
ignoring  them  in  his  reflective  calculations,  or  even,  on 
occasion,  by  denying  outright  that  they  exist.  Evil  is  a 
disease  ; and  worry  over  disease  is  itself  an  additional 
form  of  disease,  which  only  adds  to  the  original  com- 
plaint. Even  repentance  and  remorse,  affections  which 
come  in  the  character  of  ministers  of  good,  may  be  but 
sickly  and  relaxing  impulses.  The  best  repentance  is  to 
up  and  act  for  righteousness,  and  forget  that  you  ever 
had  relations  with  sin. 

Spinoza’s  philosophy  has  this  sort  of  healthy-minded- 
ness  woven  into  the  heart  of  it,  and  this  has  been  one 
secret  of  its  fascination.  He  whom  Reason  leads,  ac- 
cording to  Spinoza,  is  led  altogether  by  the  influence 
over  his  mind  of  good.  Knowledge  of  evil  is  an  ‘ inade- 
quate ’ knowledge,  fit  only  for  slavish  minds.  So  Spi- 


128  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


noza  categorically  condemns  repentance.  When  men 
make  mistakes,  he  says,  — 

“ One  might  perhaps  expect  gnawings  of  conscience  and 
repentance  to  help  to  bring  them  on  the  right  path,  and  might 
thereupon  conclude  (as  every  one  does  conclude)  that  these 
affections  are  good  things.  Yet  when  we  look  at  the  matter 
closely,  we  shall  find  that  not  only  are  they  not  good,  but  on 
the  contrary  deleterious  and  evil  passions.  For  it  is  manifest 
that  we  can  always  get  along  better  by  reason  and  love  of  truth 
than  by  worry  of  conscience  and  remorse.  Harmful  are  these 
and  evil,  inasmuch  as  they  form  a particular  kind  of  sadness  ; 
and  the  disadvantages  of  sadness,”  he  continues,  “ I have  al- 
ready proved,  and  shown  that  we  should  strive  to  keep  it  from 
our  life.  Just  so  we  should  endeavor,  since  uneasiness  of  con- 
science and  remorse  are  of  this  kind  of  complexion,  to  flee  and 
shun  these  states  of  mind.”  ^ 

Within  the  Christian  body,  for  which  repentance  of 
sins  has  from  the  beginning  been  the  critical  religious 
act,  healthy-mindedness  has  always  come  forward  with 
its  milder  interpretation.  Repentance  according  to  such 
healthy-minded  Christians  means  getting  avmy  from  the 
sin,  not  groaning  and  writhing  over  its  commission.  The 
Catholic  practice  of  confession  and  absolution  is  in  one 
of  its  aspects  little  more  than  a systematic  method  of 
keeping  healthy-mindedness  on  top.  By  it  a man’s 
accounts  with  evil  are  periodically  squared  and  audited, 
so  that  he  may  start  the  clean  page  with  no  old  debts 
inscribed.  Any  Catholic  will  tell  us  how  clean  and  fresh 
and  free  he  feels  after  the  purging  operation.  Martin 
Luther  by  no  means  belonged  to  the  healthy-minded 
type  in  the  radical  sense  in  which  we  have  discussed  it, 
and  he  repudiated  priestly  absolution  for  sin.  Yet  in  this 
matter  of  repentance  he  had  some  very  healthy-minded 

* Tract  on  God,  Man,  and  Happiness,  Book  ii.  ch.  x. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


129 


ideas,  due  in  the  main  to  the  largeness  of  his  conception 
of  God. 

“ When  I was  a monk,”  he  says,  “I  thought  that  I was  ut- 
terly cast  away,  if  at  any  time  I felt  the  lust  of  the  flesh : that 
is  to  say,  if  I felt  any  evil  motion,  fleshly  lust,  wrath,  hatred, 
or  envy  against  any  brother.  I assayed  many  ways  to  help  to 
quiet  my  conscience,  but  it  would  not  be  ; for  the  concupiscence 
and  lust  of  my  flesh  did  always  return,  so  that  I could  not  rest, 
but  was  continually  vexed  with  these  thoughts : This  or  that 
sin  thou  hast  committed  : thou  art  infected  with  envy,  with 
impatiency,  and  such  other  sins  : therefore  thou  art  entered 
into  this  holy  order  in  vain,  and  all  thy  good  works  are  unpro- 
fitable. But  if  then  I had  rightly  understood  these  sentences 
of  Paul : ‘ The  flesh  lusteth  contrary  to  the  Spirit,  and  the 
Spirit  contrary  to  the  flesh ; and  these  two  are  one  against 
another,  so  that  ye  cannot  do  the  things  that  ye  would  do,’ 
I should  not  have  so  miserably  tormented  myself,  but  should 
have  thought  and  said  to  myself,  as  now  commonly  I do,  ‘ Mar- 
tin, thou  shalt  not  utterly  be  without  sin,  for  thou  hast  flesh ; 
thou  shalt  therefore  feel  the  battle  thereof.’  I remember  that 
Staupitz  was  wont  to  say,  ‘ I have  vowed  unto  God  above  a 
thousand  times  that  I would  become  a better  man : but  I never 
performed  that  which  I vowed.  Hereafter  I will  make  no 
such  vow  : for  I have  now  learned  by  experience  that  I am  not 
able  to  perform  it.  Unless,  therefore,  God  be  favorable  and 
merciful  unto  me  for  Christ’s  sake,  I shall  not  be  able,  with  all 
my  vows  and  all  my  good  deeds,  to  stand  before  him.’  This 
(of  Staupitz’s)  was  not  only  a true,  but  also  a godly  and  a 
holy  desperation  ; and  this  must  they  all  confess,  both  with 
mouth  and  heart,  who  will  be  saved.  For  the  godly  trust  not 
to  their  own  righteousness.  They  look  unto  Christ  their  recon- 
ciler, who  gave  his  life  for  their  sins.  Moreover,  they  know 
that  the  remnant  of  sin  which  is  in  their  flesh  is  not  laid  tt> 
their  charge,  but  freely  pardoned.  Notwithstanding,  in  the 
mean  while  they  fight  in  spirit  against  the  flesh,  lest  they  should 
fulfil  the  lusts  thereof  ; and  although  they  feel  the  flesh  to 
rage  and  rebel,  and  themselves  also  do  fall  sometimes  into  sin 
through  infirmity,  yet  are  they  not  discouraged,  nor  think  there 


130  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


fore  that  their  state  and  kind  of  life,  and  the  works  which  are 
done  according  to  their  calling,  displease  God ; but  they  raise 
up  themselves  by  faith.”  ^ 

One  of  the  heresies  for  which  the  Jesuits  got  that 
spiritual  genius,  Molinos,  the  founder  of  Quietism,  so 
abominabiy  condemned  was  his  healthy-minded  opinion 
of  repentance : — 

“ When  thou  fullest  into  a fault,  in  what  matter  soever  it  be, 
do  not  trouble  nor  afflict  thyself  for  it.  For  they  are  effects 
of  our  frail  Nature,  stained  by  Original  Sin.  The  common 
enemy  will  make  thee  believe,  as  soon  as  thou  fallest  into 
any  fault,  that  thou  walkest  in  error,  and  therefore  art  out  of 
God  and  his  favor,  and  herewith  would  he  make  thee  distrust 
of  the  divine  Grace,  telling  thee  of  thy  misery,  and  making  a 
giant  of  it ; and  putting  it  into  thy  head  that  every  day  thy 
soul  grows  worse  instead  of  better,  whilst  it  so  often  repeats 
these  failings.  O blessed  Soul,  open  thine  eyes  ; and  shut 
the  gate  against  these  diabolical  suggestions,  knowing  thy 
misery,  and  trusting  in  the  mercy  divine.  Would  not  he  be  a 
mere  fool  who,  running  at  tournament  with  others,  and  falling 
in  the  best  of  the  career,  should  lie  weeping  on  the  ground  and 
afflicting  himself  with  discourses  upon  his  fall  ? Man  (they 
would  tell  him),  lose  no  time,  get  up  and  take  the  course  again, 
for  he  that  rises  again  quickly  and  continues  his  race  is  as  if 
he  had  never  fallen.  If  thou  seest  thyself  fallen  once  and 
a thousand  times,  thou  oughtest  to  make  use  of  the  remedy 
which  I have  given  thee,  that  is,  a loving  confidence  in  the 
divine  mercy.  These  are  the  weapons  with  which  thou  must 
fight  and  conquer  cowardice  and  vain  thoughts.  This  is  the 
means  thou  oughtest  to  use  — not  to  lose  time,  not  to  disturb 
thyself,  and  reap  no  good.”  ^ 

Now  in  contrast  with  such  healthy-minded  views  as 
these,  if  we  treat  them  as  a way  of  deliberately  minimiz- 
ing evil,  stands  a radically  opposite  view,  a way  of  max- 

^ Commentary  on  Galatians,  Philadelphia,  1891,  pp.  510-514  (abridged). 

® Molinos  : Spiritual  Guide,  Book  II.,  chaps,  xvii.,  xviii.  (abridged). 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


131 


imizing  evil,  if  you  please  so  to  call  it,  based  on  the 
persuasion  that  the  evil  aspects  of  our  hfe  are  of  its  very 
essence,  and  that  the  world’s  meaning  most  comes  home 
to  us  when  we  lay  them  most  to  heart.  We  have  now 
to  address  ourselves  to  this  more  morbid  way  of  looking 
at  the  situation.  But  as  I closed  our  last  hour  with  a 
general  philosophical  reflection  on  the  healthy-minded 
way  of  taking  life,  I should  like  at  this  point  to  make 
another  philosophical  reflection  upon  it  Defore  turning 
to  that  heavier  task.  You  will  excuse  the  brief  delay. 

If  we  admit  that  evil  is  an  essential  part  of  our  being 
and  the  key  to  the  interpretation  of  our  life,  we  load  our- 
•selves  down  with  a difficulty  that  has  always  proved  bur- 
densome in  philosophies  of  religion.  Theism,  whenever 
it  has  erected  itself  into  a systematic  philosophy  of  the 
universe,  has  shown  a reluctance  to  let  God  be  anything 
less  than  All-in- All.  In  other  words,  philosophic  theism 
has  always  shown  a tendency  to  become  pantheistic  and 
monistic,  and  to  consider  the  world  as  one  unit  of  abso- 
lute fact ; and  this  has  been  at  variance  with  popular  or 
practical  theism,  which  latter  has  ever  been  more  or  less 
frankly  pluralistic,  not  to  say  polytheistic,  and  shown 
itself  perfectly  well  satisfied  with  a universe  composed 
of  many  original  principles,  provided  we  be  only  allowed 
to  believe  that  the  divine  principle  remains  supreme,  and 
that  the  others  are  subordinate.  In  this  latter  case  God 
is  not  necessarily  responsible  for  the  existence  of  evil ; 
he  would  only  be  responsible  if  it  were  not  finally  over- 
come. But  on  the  monistic  or  pantheistic  view,  evil,  like 
everything  else,  must  have  its  foundation  in  God;  and 
the  difficulty  is  to  see  how  this  can  possibly  be  the  case 
if  God  be  absolutely  good.  This  difficulty  faces  us  in 
every  form  of  philosophy  in  which  the  world  appears  as 
one  flawless  unit  of  fact.  Such  a unit  is  an  Individual, 


132  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  in  it  the  worst  parts  must  be  as  essential  as  the  best, 
must  be  as  necessary  to  make  the  individual  what  he  is  ; 
since  if  any  part  whatever  in  an  individual  were  to  vanish 
or  alter,  it  would  no  longer  be  that  individual  at  all.  The 
philosophy  of  absolute  idealism,  so  vigorously  represented 
both  in  Scotland  and  America  to-day,  has  to  struggle 
with  this  difficulty  quite  as  much  as  scholastic  theism 
struggled  in  its  time  ; and  although  it  would  be  prema- 
ture to  say  that  there  is  no  speculative  issue  whatever 
from  the  puzzle,  it  is  perfectly  fair  to  say  that  there  is 
no  clear  or  easy  issue,  and  that  the  only  obvious  escape 
from  paradox  here  is  to  cut  loose  from  the  monistic 
assumption  altogether,  and  to  allow  the  world  to  have 
existed  from  its  origin  in  pluralistic  form,  as  an  aggre- 
gate or  collection  of  higher  and  lower  things  and  princi- 
ples, rather  than  an  absolutely  unitary  fact.  For  then  evil 
% would  not  need  to  be  essential ; it  might  be,  and  may 
always  have  been,  an  independent  portion  that  had  no 
rational  or  absolute  right  to  live  with  the  rest,  and  which 
we  might  conceivably  hope  to  see  got  rid  of  at  last. 

Now  the  gospel  of  healthy-mindedness,  as  we  have 
described  it,  casts  its  vote  distinctly  for  this  pluralistic 
view.  Whereas  the  monistic  philosopher  finds  himself 
more  or  less  bound  to  say,  as  Hegel  said,  that  everything 
actual  is  rational,  and  that  evil,  as  an  element  dialec- 
tically required,  must  be  pinned  in  and  kept  and  con- 
secrated and  have  a function  awarded  to  it  in  the  final 
system  of  truth,  healthy-mindedness  refuses  to  say  any- 
thing of  the  sort.^  Evil,  it  says,  is  emphatically  irrational, 

' I say  this  in  spite  of  the  monistic  utterances  of  many  mind-cure 
writers  ; for  these  utterances  are  really  inconsistent  with  their  attitude 
towards  disease,  and  can  easily  be  shown  not  to  be  logically  involved  in  the 
experiences  of  union  with  a higher  Presence  with  which  they  connect  them- 
selves. The  higher  Presence,  namely,  need  not  be  the  absolute  whole  of 
things,  it  is  quite  sufficient  for  the  life  of  religious  experience  to  regard  it  as 
a part,  if  only  it  be  the  most  ideal  part. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


133 


and  not  to  be  pinned  in,  or  preserved,  or  consecrated 
in  any  final  system  of  truth.  It  is  a pure  abomination 
to  the  Lord,  an  alien  unreality,  a waste  element,  to  be 
sloughed  off  and  negated,  and  the  very  memory  of  it, 
if  possible,  wiped  out  and  forgotten.  The  ideal,  so  far 
from  being  co-extensive  with  the  whole  actual,  is  a mere 
extract  from  the  actual,  marked  by  its  deliverance  from 
aU  contact  with  this  diseased,  inferior,  and  excrementi- 
tious  stuff. 

Here  we  have  the  interesting  notion  fairly  and  squarely 
presented  to  us,  of  there  being  elements  of  the  universe 
which  may  make  no  rational  whole  in  conjunction  with 
the  other  elements,  and  which,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
any  system  which  those  other  elements  make  up,  can  only 
be  considered  so  much  irrelevance  and  accident  — so 
much  ‘ dirt,’  as  it  were,  and  matter  out  of  place.  I ask 
you  now  not  to  forget  this  notion ; for  although  most 
philosophers  seem  either  to  forget  it  or  to  disdain  it  too 
much  ever  to  mention  it,  I believe  that  we  shall  have  to 
admit  it  ourselves  in  the  end  as  containing  an  element  of 
truth.  The  mind-cure  gospel  thus  once  more  appears 
to  us  as  having  dignity  and  importance.  We  have  seen 
it  to  be  a genuine  religion,  and  no  mere  silly  appeal  to 
imagination  to  cure  disease ; we  have  seen  its  method  of 
experimental  verification  to  be  not  unlike  the  method 
of  aU  science  ; and  now  here  we  find  mind-cure  as  the 
champion  of  a perfectly  definite  conception  of  the  meta- 
physical structure  of  the  world.  I hope  that,  in  view  of 
all  this,  you  will  not  regret  my  having  pressed  it  upon 
your  attention  at  such  length. 

Let  us  now  say  good-by  for  a while  to  all  this  way  of 
thinking,  and  turn  towards  those  persons  who  cannot  so 
swiftly  throw  off  the  burden  of  the  consciousness  of  evil. 


134  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


but  are  congenitally  fated  to  sillier  from  its  presenca 
Just  as  we  saw  that  in  healthy-mindedness  there  are 
shallower  and  profounder  levels,  happiness  like  that  of 
the  mere  animal,  and  more  regenerate  sorts  of  happiness, 
so  also  are  there  different  levels  of  the  morbid  mind,  and 
the  one  is  much  more  formidable  than  the  other.  There 
are  people  for  whom  evil  means  only  a mal-adjustment 
with  things,  a wrong  correspondence  of  one’s  life  with 
the  environment.  Such  evil  as  this  is  curable,  in  princi- 
ple at  least,  upon  the  natural  plane,  for  merely  by  modi- 
fying either  the  self  or  the  things,  or  both  at  once,  the 
two  terms  may  be  made  to  fit,  and  all  go  merry  as  a mar- 
riao-e  bell  agfain.  But  there  are  others  for  whom  evil  is 
no  mere  relation  of  the  subject  to  particular  outer  things, 
but  something  more  radical  and  general,  a wrongness 
or  vice  in  his  essential  nature,  which  no  alteration  of 
the  envu'onment,  or  any  superficial  rearrangement  of  the 
inner  self,  can  cure,  and  which  requires  a supernatural 
remedy.  On  the  whole,  the  Latin  races  have  leaned  more 
towards  the  former  way  of  looking  upon  evil,  as  made  up 
of  ills  and  sins  in  the  plural,  removable  in  detail ; while 
the  Germanic  races  have  tended  rather  to  think  of  Sin  in 
the  singular,  and  with  a capital  S,  as  of  something  inerad- 
icably  ingrained  in  our  natural  subjectivity,  and  never 
to  be  removed  by  any  superficial  piecemeal  operations.^ 
These  comparisons  of  races  are  always  open  to  excep- 
tion, but  undoubtedly  the  northern  tone  in  religion  has 
inchned  to  the  more  intimately  pessimistic  persuasion, 
and  this  way  of  feehng,  being  the  more  extreme,  we  shall 
find  by  far  the  more  instructive  for  our  study. 

Recent  psychology  has  found  great  use  for  the  word 
* threshold  ’ as  a symbolic  designation  for  the  point  at 
which  one  state  of  mind  passes  into  another.  Thus  we 
^ Cf.  J.  Milsand  : Luther  et  le  Serf-Arbitre,  1884,  passim. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


13S 


speak  of  the  threshold  of  a man’s  consciousness  in  gem 
eral,  to  indicate  the  amount  of  noise,  pressure,  or  other 
outer  stimulus  which  it  takes  to  arouse  his  attention  at 
all.  One  with  a high  threshold  will  doze  through  an 
amount  of  racket  by  which  one  with  a low  threshold 
would  be  immediately  waked.  Similarly,  when  one  is  sen- 
sitive to  small  differences  in  any  order  of  sensation,  we 
say  he  has  a low  ‘ difference-threshold  ’ — bis  mind  easily 
steps  over  it  into  the  consciousness  of  the  differences  in 
question.  And  just  so  we  might  speak  of  a ‘ pain-thresh- 
old,’ a ‘fear-threshold,’  a ‘misery-threshold,’  and  find  it 
quickly  overpassed  by  the  consciousness  of  some  individ- 
uals, but  lying  too  high  in  others  to  be  often  reached  by 
their  consciousness.  The  sanguine  and  healthy-minded 
live  habitually  on  the  sunny  side  of  their  misery-line,  the 
depressed  and  melancholy  live  beyond  it,  in  darkness  and 
apprehension.  There  are  men  who  seem  to  have  started 
in  life  with  a bottle  or  two  of  champagne  inscribed  to 
their  credit ; whilst  others  seem  to  have  been  born  close 
to  the  pain-threshold,  which  the  shghtest  ffritants  fatally 
send  them  over. 

Does  it  not  appear  as  if  one  who  lived  more  habitually 
on  one  side  of  the  pain-threshold  might  need  a different 
sort  of  religion  from  one  who  habitually  lived  on  the 
other  ? This  question,  of  the  relativity  of  different  types 
of  religion  to  different  types  of  need,  arises  naturally  at 
this  point,  and  will  become  a serious  problem  ere  we  have 
done.  But  before  we  confront  it  in  general  terms,  we 
must  address  ourselves  to  the  unpleasant  task  of  hearing 
what  the  sick  souls,  as  we  may  call  them  in  contrast  to 
the  healthy-minded,  have  to  say  of  the  oecrets  of  their 
prison-house,  their  own  peculiar  form  of  consciousness. 
Let  us  then  resolutely  turn  our  backs  on  the  once-born 
and  their  sky-blue  optimistic  gospel ; let  us  not  simply  cry 


136  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

out,  in  spite  of  all  appearances,  “ Hurrah  for  the  Uni- 
verse ! — God ’s  in  his  Heaven,  all ’s  right  with  the 
world.”  Let  us  see  rather  whether  pity,  pain,  and  fear, 
and  the  sentiment  of  human  helplessness  may  not  open 
a profomider  view  and  put  into  our  hands  a more  com- 
plicated key  to  the  meaning  of  the  situation. 

To  begin  with,  how  can  things  so  insecure  as  the  suc- 
cessful experiences  of  this  world  afford  a stable  anchor- 
age ? A chain  is  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link,  and 
life  is  after  all  a chain.  In  the  healthiest  and  most  pros- 
perous existence,  how  many  links  of  illness,  danger,  and 
disaster  are  always  interposed  ? Unsuspectedly  from  the 
bottom  of  every  fountain  of  pleasure,  as  the  old  poet 
said,  something  bitter  rises  up  : a touch  of  nausea,  a fall- 
ing dead  of  the  delight,  a whiff  of  melancholy,  things 
that  sound  a knell,  for  fugitive  as  they  may  be,  they 
bring  a feeling  of  coming  from  a deeper  region  and  often 
have  an  appalling  convincingness.  The  buzz  of  life 
ceases  at  their  touch  as  a piano-string  stops  sounding 
when  the  damper  falls  upon  it. 

Of  course  the  music  can  commence  again  ; — and  again 
and  again,  — at  intervals.  But  with  this  the  healthy- 
minded  consciousness  is  left  with  an  irremediable  sense 
of  precariousness.  It  is  a bell  with  a crack  ; it  draws  its 
breath  on  sufferance  and  by  an  accident. 

Even  if  we  suppose  a man  so  packed  with  healthy- 
mindedness  as  never  to  have  experienced  in  his  own  per- 
son any  of  these  sobering  intervals,  still,  if  he  is  a reflect- 
ing being,  he  must  generalize  and  class  his  own  lot  with 
that  of  others ; and,  doing  so,  he  must  see  that  his  escape 
is  just  a lucky  chance  and  no  essential  difference.  He 
might  just  as  well  have  been  born  to  an  entirely  different 
fortune.  And  then  indeed  the  hollow  security ! What 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


137 


kind  of  a frame  of  things  is  it  of  which  the  best  you  can 
say  is,  “ Thank  God,  it  has  let  me  off  clear  this  time  ! ” 
Is  not  its  blessedness  a fragile  fiction  ? Is  not  your  joy 
in  it  a very  vulgar  glee,  not  much  unlike  the  snicker  of 
any  rogue  at  his  success  ? If  indeed  it  were  all  success, 
even  on  such  terms  as  that ! But  take  the  happiest  man, 
the  one  most  envied  by  the  world,  and  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  his  inmost  consciousness  is  one  of  failure.  Either 
his  ideals  in  the  fine  of  his  achievements  are  pitched  far 
higher  than  the  achievements  themselves,  or  else  he  has 
secret  ideals  of  which  the  world  knows  nothing,  and  in 
regard  to  which  he  inwardly  knows  himself  to  be  found 
wanting. 

When  such  a conquering  optimist  as  Goethe  can  ex- 
press himself  in  this  wise,  how  must  it  be  with  less  suc- 
cessful men  ? 

“ I will  say  nothing,”  writes  Goethe  in  1824,  “ against  the 
course  of  my  existence.  But  at  bottom  it  has  been  nothing  but 
pain  and  burden,  and  I can  affirm  that  during  the  whole  of  my 
75  years,  I have  not  had  four  weeks  of  genuine  well-being.  It 
is  but  the  perpetual  rolling  of  a rock  that  must  be  raised  up 
again  forever.” 

What  single-handed  man  was  ever  on  the  whole  as 
successful  as  Luther  ? yet  when  he  had  grown  old,  he 
looked  back  on  his  life  as  if  it  were  an  absolute  failure. 

“ I am  utterly  weary  of  life.  I pray  the  Lord  will  come 
forthwith  and  carry  me  hence.  Let  him  come,  above  all,  with 
his  last  Judgment:  I will  stretch  out  my  neck,  the  thunder  will 
burst  forth,  and  I shall  be  at  rest.”  — And  having  a necklace 
of  white  agates  in  his  hand  at  the  time  he  added  : “ O God, 
grant  that  it  may  come  without  delay.  I would  readily  eat  up 
this  necklace  to-day,  for  the  Judgment  to  come  to-morrow.”  — 
The  Electress  Dowager,  one  day  when  Luther  was  dining  with 
her,  said  to  him : “ Doctor,  I wish  you  may  live  forty  years  to 


138  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


come.”  “ Madam,”  rejjlied  he,  “ rather  than  live  forty  years 
more,  I would  give  up  my  chance  of  Paradise.” 

Failure,  then,  failure  ! so  the  world  stamps  us  at  every 
turn.  We  strew  it  with  our  blunders,  our  misdeeds,  our 
lost  opportunities,  with  all  the  memorials  of  our  inade'^ 
quacy  to  our  vocation.  And  with  what  a damning  em* 
phasis  does  it  then  blot  us  out ! No  easy  fine,  no  mere 
apology  or  formal  expiation,  will  satisfy  the  world’s  de- 
mands, but  every  pound  of  flesh  exacted  is  soaked  with 
all  its  blood.  The  subtlest  forms  of  suffering  known  to 
man  are  connected  with  the  poisonous  humiliations  inci- 
dental to  these  results. 

And  they  are  pivotal  human  experiences.  A process 
so  ubiquitous  and  everlasting  is  evidently  an  integral  part 
of  life.  “ There  is  indeed  one  element  in  human  des- 
tiny,” Robert  Louis  Stevenson  writes,  “ that  not  blindness 
itself  can  controvert.  Whatever  else  we  are  intended  to 
do,  we  are  not  intended  to  succeed  ; failure  is  the  fate 
allotted.”  ^ And  our  nature  being  thus  rooted  in  failure, 
is  it  any  wonder  that  theologians  should  have  held  it  to 
be  essential,  and  thought  that  only  through  the  personal 
experience  of  humiliation  which  it  engenders  the  deeper 
sense  of  life’s  significance  is  reached?^ 


^ He  adds  with  characteristic  healthy-mindedness:  “Our  business  is  to 
continue  to  fail  in  good  spirits.” 

® The  God  of  many  men  is  little  more  than  their  court  of  appeal  against 
the  damnatory  judgment  passed  on  their  failures  by  the  opinion  of  this 
world.  To  our  own  consciousness  there  is  usually  a residuum  of  worth  left 
over  after  our  sins  and  errors  have  been  told  off  — our  capacity  of  acknow- 
ledging and  regretting  them  is  the  germ  of  a better  self  in  posse  at  least. 
But  the  world  deals  with  us  in  actu  and  not  in  posse : and  of  this  hidden 
germ,  not  to  be  guessed  at  from  without,  it  never  takes  account.  Then  we 
turn  to  the  All-knower,  who  knows  our  bad,  but  knows  this  good  in  us  also, 
and  who  is  just.  We  cast  ourselves  with  our  repentance  on  his  mercy: 
only  by  an  All-knower  can  we  finally  be  judged.  So  the  need  of  a God 
very  definitely  emerges  from  this  sort  of  experience  of  life. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


139 


But  this  is  only  the  first  stage  of  the  world-sickness. 
Make  the  human  being’s  sensitiveness  a little  greater, 
carry  him  a little  farther  over  the  misery-threshold,  and 
the  good  quality  of  the  successful  moments  themselves 
when  they  occur  is  spoiled  and  vitiated.  All  natural 
goods  perish.  Riches  take  wings;  fame  is  a breath; 
love  is  a cheat ; youth  and  health  and  pleasure  vanish. 
Can  things  whose  end  is  always  dust  and  disappointment 
be  the  real  goods  which  our  souls  require?  Back  of 
everything  is  the  great  spectre  of  universal  death,  the 
all-encompassing  blackness : — 

“ What  profit  hath  a man  of  all  his  labour  which  he  taketh 
under  the  Sun  ? I looked  on  all  the  works  that  my  hands  had 
wrought,  and  behold,  all  was  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 
For  that  which  befalleth  the  sons  of  men  befalleth  beasts  ; as 
the  one  dieth,  so  dieth  the  other ; all  are  of  the  dust,  and  aU 
turn  to  dust  again.  . . . The  dead  know  not  anything,  neither 
have  they  any  more  a reward  ; for  the  memory  of  them  is  for- 
gotten. Also  their  love  and  their  hatred  and  their  envy  is  now 
perished ; neither  have  they  any  more  a portion  for  ever  in  any- 
thing that  is  done  under  the  Sun.  . . . Truly  the  light  is  sweet, 
and  a pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  Sun : but 
if  a man  live  many  years  and  rejoice  in  them  all,  yet  let  him 
remember  the  days  of  darkness ; for  they  shall  be  many.” 

In  short,  life  and  its  negation  are  beaten  up  inextrica- 
bly together.  But  if  the  life  be  good,  the  negation  of  it 
must  be  bad.  Yet  the  two  are  equally  essential  facts  of 
existence ; and  all  natural  happiness  thus  seems  infected 
with  a contradiction.  The  breath  of  the  sepulchre  sur- 
rounds it. 

To  a mind  attentive  to  this  state  of  things  and  rightly 
subject  to  the  joy-destroying  chill  which  such  a contem- 
plation engenders,  the  only  relief  that  healthy-minded- 
aess  can  give  is  by  saying : ‘ Stuff  and  nonsense,  get 
out  into  the  open  air ! ’ or  ‘ Cheer  up,  old  fellow,  you  ’ll 


140  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


be  all  right  erelong,  i£  you  will  only  drop  your  morbid- 
ness ! ’ But  in  all  seriousness,  can  such  bald  animal 
talk  as  that  be  treated  as  a rational  answer  ? To  ascribe 
religious  value  to  mere  happy-go-lucky  contentment  with 
one’s  brief  chance  at  natural  good  is  but  the  very  conse- 
cration of  forgetfulness  and  superficiality.  Our  troubles 
lie  indeed  too  deep  for  that  cure.  The  fact  that  we  can 
die,  that  we  can  be  ill  at  all,  is  what  perplexes  us ; the 
fact  that  we  now  for  a moment  live  and  are  well  is  irrele- 
vant to  that  perplexity.  We  need  a life  not  correlated 
with  death,  a health  not  liable  to  illness,  a kind  of  good 
that  will  not  perish,  a good  in  fact  that  flies  beyond  the 
Goods  of  nature. 

It  all  depends  on  how  sensitive  the  soul  may  become 
to  discords.  “ The  trouble  with  me  is  that  I believe  too 
much  in  common  happiness  and  goodness,”  said  a friend 
of  mine  whose  consciousness  was  of  this  sort,  “ and 
nothing  can  console  me  for  their  transiency.  I am 
appalled  and  disconcerted  at  its  being  possible.”  And  so 
with  most  of  us : a httle  cooling  down  of  animal  excita- 
bility and  instinct,  a little  loss  of  animal  toughness,  a 
little  irritable  weakness  and  descent  of  the  pain-threshold, 
will  bring  the  worm  at  the  core  of  all  our  usual  springs 
of  delight  into  full  view,  and  turn  us  into  melancholy 
metaphysicians.  The  pride  of  life  and  glory  of  the 
world  will  shrivel.  It  is  after  all  but  the  standing  quarrel 
of  hot  youth  and  hoary  eld.  Old  age  has  the  last  word  : 
the  purely  naturalistic  look  at  life,  however  enthusiast^ 
cally  it  may  begin,  is  sure  to  end  in  sadness. 

This  sadness  lies  at  the  heart  of  every  merely  posi- 
tivistic, agnostic,  or  naturalistic  scheme  of  philosophy. 
Let  sanguine  healthy-mindedness  do  its  best  with  its 
strange  power  of  living  in  the  moment  and  ignoring  and 
forgetting,  still  the  evil  background  is  really  there  to  be 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


141 


thought  of,  and  the  skull  will  grin  in  at  the  banquet.  In 
the  practical  life  of  the  individual,  we  know  how  his 
whole  gloom  or  glee  about  any  present  fact  depends  on 
the  remoter  schemes  and  hopes  with  which  it  stands  re- 
lated. Its  significance  and  framing  give  it  the  chief  part 
of  its  value.  Let  it  be  known  to  lead  nowhere,  and 
however  agreeable  it  may  be  in  its  immediacy,  its  glow 
and  gilding  vanish.  The  old  man,  sick  with  an  insidi- 
ous internal  disease,  may  laugh  and  quaff  his  wine  at  first 
as  well  as  ever,  but  he  knows  his  fate  now,  for  the  doc- 
tors have  revealed  it ; and  the  knowledge  knocks  the 
satisfaction  out  of  all  these  functions.  They  are  part- 
ners of  death  and  the  worm  is  their  brother,  and  they 
tuim  to  a mere  flatness. 

The  lustre  of  the  present  hour  is  always  borrowed 
! from  the  background  of  possibihties  it  goes  with.  Let 
[ oim  common  experiences  be  enveloped  in  an  eternal  moral 
i order  ; let  our  suffering  have  an  immortal  significance  ; 
I let  Heaven  smile  upon  the  earth,  and  deities  pay  their 
! visits ; let  faith  and  hope  be  the  atmosphere  which  man 
j breathes  in  ; — and  his  days  pass  by  with  zest ; they  stir 
‘ with  prospects,  they  thrill  with  remoter  values.  Place 
j round  them  on  the  contrary  the  curdling  cold  and  gloom 
i and  absence  of  all  permanent  meaning  which  for  pure 
j naturalism  and  the  popular  science  evolutionism  of  our 
I time  are  all  that  is  visible  ultimately,  and  the  thrill  stops 
I short,  or  turns  rather  to  an  anxious  trembling. 

! For  naturalism,  fed  on  recent  cosmological  specula- 
tions, mankind  is  in  a position  similar  to  that  of  a set  of 
j people  hving  on  a frozen  lake,  surrounded  by  cliffs  over 
I which  there  is  no  escape,  yet  knowing  that  little  by  little 
! the  ice  is  melting,  and  the  inevitable  day  drawing  near 
when  the  last  film  of  it  will  disappear,  and  to  be  drowned 
I ignominiously  will  be  the  human  creature’s  portion.  The 


142  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


merrier  the  skating,  the  warmer  and  more  sparkling  the 
sun  by  day,  and  the  ruddier  the  bonfires  at  night,  the 
more  poignant  the  sadness  with  which  one  must  take  in 
the  meaning  of  the  total  situation. 

The  early  Greeks  are  continually  held  up  to  us  in  lit- 
erary works  as  models  of  the  healthy-minded  joyousness 
which  the  religion  of  nature  may  engender.  There  was 
indeed  much  joyousness  among  the  Greeks  — Homer’s 
flow  of  enthusiasm  for  most  things  that  the  sun  shines 
upon  is  steady.  But  even  in  Homer  the  reflective  pas- 
sages are  cheerless,^  and  the  moment  the  Greeks  grew 
systematically  pensive  and  thought  of  ultimates,  they 
became  unmitigated  pessimists.^  The  jealousy  of  the 
gods,  the  nemesis  that  follows  too  much  happiness,  the 
all-encompassing  death,  fate’s  dark  opacity,  the  ultimate 
and  unintelligible  cruelty,  were  the  fixed  background  of 

^ E.  g.,  Iliad,  XVII.  446  : “ Nothing  then  is  more  wretched  anywhere 
than  man  of  all  that  breathes  and  creeps  upon  this  earth.” 

* E.  g.,  Theognis,  425-428  : “ Best  of  all  for  all  things  upon  earth  is  it 
not  to  be  born  nor  to  behold  the  splendors  of  the  Sun  ; next  best  to  traverse 
as  ’soon  as  possible  the  gates  of  Hades.”  See  also  the  almost  identical 
passage  in  CEdipus  in  Colonus,  1225.  — The  Anthology  is  full  of  pessimis- 
tic utterances:  “Naked  came  I upon  the  earth,  naked  I go  below  the 
ground  — why  then  do  I vainly  toil  when  I see  the  end  naked  before  me  ? ” 
— “ How  did  I come  to  be  ? Whence  am  I ? Wherefore  did  I come  ? To 
pass  away.  How  can  I learn  aught  when  naught  I know  ? Being  naught  I 
came  to  life  : once  more  shall  I be  what  I was.  Nothing  and  nothingness 
is  the  whole  race  of  mortals.”  — “ For  death  we  are  all  cherished  and  fat- 
tened like  a herd  of  hogs  that  is  wantonly  butchered.” 

The  difference  between  Greek  pessimism  and  the  oriental  and  modern 
variety  is  that  the  Greeks  had  not  made  the  discovery  that  the  pathetic 
mood  may  be  idealized,  and  figure  as  a higher  form  of  sensibility.  Their 
spirit  was  still  too  essentially  masculine  for  pessimism  to  be  elaborated  or 
lengthily  dwelt  on  in  their  classic  literature.  They  would  have  despised  a 
life  set  wholly  in  a minor  key,  and  summoned  it  to  keep  within  the  proper 
bounds  of  lachrymosity.  The  discovery  that  the  enduring  emphasis,  so  far 
as  this  world  goes,  may  be  laid  on  its  pain  and  failure,  was  reserved  for 
races  more  complex,  and  (so  to  speak)  more  feminine  than  the  Hellenes 
had  attained  to  being  in  the  classic  period.  But  all  the  same  was  the  out* 
look  of  those  Hellenes  blackly  pessimistic. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


143 


their  imagination.  The  beautiful  joyousness  of  their 
polytheism  is  only  a poetic  modern  fiction.  They  knew 
no  joys  comparable  in  quality  of  preciousness  to  those 
which  we  shall  erelong  see  that  Brahmans,  Buddhists, 
Christians,  Mohammedans,  twice-born  people  whose  reli- 
1 gion  is  non-naturahstic,  get  from  their  several  creeds  of 
mysticism  and  renunciation. 

j Stoic  insensibility  and  Epicurean  resignation  were  the 
, farthest  advance  which  the  Greek  mind  made  in  that  di- 
rection.  The  Epicurean  said  : ‘‘  Seek  not  to  be  happy, 
I but  rather  to  escape  unhappiness  ; strong  happiness  is 
' ^always  linked  with  pain  ; therefore  hug  the  safe  shore, 

I and  do  not  tempt  the  deeper  raptures.  Avoid  disap- 
1 pointment  by  expecting  little,  and  by  aiming  low ; and 
(|  above  all  do  not  fret.”  The  Stoic  said  : “ The  only 

i genuine  good  that  life  can  yield  a man  is  the  free  pos- 
session of  his  own  soul ; aU  other  goods  are  lies.” 
ijEach  of  these  philosophies  is  in  its  degree  a philosophy 
I of  despair  in  nature’s  boons.  Trustful  self-abandonment 
[■to  the  joys  that  freely  offer  has  entirely  departed  from 
(|  both  Epicurean  and  Stoic  ; and  what  each  proposes  is  a 
I]  way  of  rescue  from  the  resultant  dust-and-ashes  state  of 
i|mind.  The  Epicurean  still  awaits  results  from  economy 
i of  indulgence  and  damping  of  desire.  The  Stoic  hopes 
i for  no  results,  and  gives  up  natural  good  altogether, 
i There  is  dignity  in  both  these  forms  of  resignation. 

I ^ They  represent  distinct  stages  in  the  sobering  process 
i which  man’s  primitive  intoxication  with  sense-happiness 
is  sure  to  undergo.  In  the  one  the  hot  blood  has  grown 
' cool,  in  the  other  it  has  become  quite  cold  ; and  although 
, I have  spoken  of  them  in  the  past  tense,  as  if  they  were 
merely  historic,  yet  Stoicism  and  Epicureanism  will  prob- 
,.  ably  be  to  all  time  typical  attitudes,  marking  a certain 
? definite  stage  accomplished  in  the  evolution  of  the  world- 


144  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


sick  soul.^  They  mark  the  conclusion  of  what  we  call 
the  once-born  period,  and  represent  the  hig’hest  flights  of 
what  twice-born  religion  would  call  the  purely  natural 
man  — Epicureanism,  which  can  only  by  great  courtesy 
be  called  a religion,  showing  his  refinement,  and  Stoi- 
cism exhibiting  his  moral  will.  They  leave  the  world 
in  the  shape  of  an  unreconciled  contradiction,  and  seek 
no  higher  unity.  Compared  with  the  complex  ecstasies 
which  the  super  naturally  regenerated  Christian  may  en- 
joy, or  the  oriental  pantheist  indulge  in,  their  receipts 
for  equanimity  are  expedients  which  seem  almost  crude 
in  their  simplicity. 

Please  observe,  however,  that  I am  not  yet  pretending 
finally  to  judge  any  of  these  attitudes.  I am  only 
describing  their  variety. 

The  securest  way  to  the  rapturous  sorts  of  happiness 
of  which  the  twice-born  make  report  has  as  an  historic 
matter  of  fact  been  through  a more  radical  pessimism 
than  anything  that  we  have  yet  considered.  We  have 
seen  how  the  lustre  and  enchantment  may  be  rubbed  off 
from  the  goods  of  nature.  But  there  is  a pitch  of  unhap- 
piness so  great  that  the  goods  of  nature  may  be  entirely 
forgotten,  and  all  sentiment  of  their  existence  vanish  from 
the  mental  field.  For  this  extremity  of  pessimism  to  be 
reached,  something  more  is  needed  than  observation  of 

* For  instance,  on  the  very  day  on  which  I write  this  page,  the  post 
brings  me  some  aphorisms  from  a worldly-wise  old  friend  in  Heidelberg 
which  may  serve  as  a good  contemporaneous  expression  of  Epicureanism  : 
“ By  the  word  ‘happiness  ’ every  human  being  understands  something  dif- 
ferent. It  is  a phantom  pursued  only  by  weaker  minds.  The  wise  man  is] 
satisfied  with  the  more  modest  but  much  more  definite  term  contentmentS 
What  education  should  chiefly  aim  at  is  to  save  us  from  a discontented  life.] 
Health  is  one  favoring  condition,  but  by  no  means  an  indispensable  one,  ofj 
contentment.  Woman’s  heart  and  love  are  a shrewd  device  of  Nature,  a] 
trap  which  she  sets  for  the  average  man,  to  force  him  into  working.  Bud 
the  wise  man  will  always  prefer  work  chosen  by  himself.”  ■ 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


145 


life  and  reflection  upon  death.  The  individual  must  in 
his  own  person  become  the  prey  of  a pathological  meh 
ancholy.  As  the  healthy-minded  enthusiast  succeeds  in 
ignoring  evil’s  very  existence,  so  the  subject  of  melan- 
choly is  forced  in  spite  of  hunself  to  ignore  that  of  all 
good  whatever : for  him  it  may  no  longer  have  the  least 
reality.  Such  sensitiveness  and  susceptibility  to  mental 
pain  is  a rare  occurrence  where  the  nervous  constitution  is 
entirely  normal ; one  seldom  finds  it  in  a healthy  subject 
even  where  he  is  the  victim  of  the  most  atrocious  cruel- 
ties of  outward  fortune.  So  we  note  here  the  neurotic 
I constitution,  of  which  I said  so  much  in  my  first  lecture, 
making  its  active  entrance  on  our  scene,  and  destined  to 
play  a part  in  much  that  follows.  Since  these  experi- 
i ences  of  melancholy  are  in  the  first  instance  absolutely 
I private  and  individual,  I can  now  help  myself  out  with 
I personal  documents.  Painful  indeed  they  will  be  to 
! listen  to,  and  there  is  almost  an  indecency  in  handling 
i them  in  public.  Yet  they  lie  right  in  the  middle  of  our 
path ; and  if  we  are  to  touch  the  psychology  of  rehgion 
at  all  seriously,  we  must  be  willing  to  forget  convention- 
' alities,  and  dive  below  the  smooth  and  lying  official  con- 
versational surface. 

One  can  distinguish  many  kinds  of  pathological  depres- 
sion. Sometimes  it  is  mere  passive  joylessness  and  drear- 
iness, discouragement,  dejection,  lack  of  taste  and  zest 
and  spring.  Professor  Ribot  has  proposed  the  name 
ayihedonia  to  designate  this  condition. 

“ The  state  of  anhedonia^  if  I may  coin  a new  word  to  pair 
off  With  analgesia^’’  he  writes,  “ has  been  very  little  studied,  but 
it  exists.  A young  girl  was  smitten  with  a liver  disease  which 
for  some  time  altered  her  constitution.  She  felt  no  longer  any 
affection  for  her  father  and  mother.  She  would  have  played 
with  her  doll,  but  it  was  impossible  to  find  the  least  pleasure  in 


146  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


the  act.  The  same  things  which  formerly  convulsed  her  with 
laughter  entirely  failed  to  interest  her  now.  Esquirol  observed 
the  case  of  a very  intelligent  magistrate  who  was  also  a prey  to 
hepatic  disease.  Every  emotion  appeared  dead  within  him.  He 
manifested  neither  perversion  nor  violence,  but  complete  absence 
of  emotional  reaction.  If  he  went  to  the  theatre,  which  he  did 
out  of  habit,  he  could  find  no  pleasure  there.  The  thought  of 
his  house,  of  his  home,  of  his  wife,  and  of  his  absent  children 
moved  him  as  little,  he  said,  as  a theorem  of  Euclid.”  ^ 

Prolonged  seasickness  will  in  most  persons  produce  a 
temporary  condition  of  anhedonia.  Every  good,  terres- 
trial or  celestial,  is  imagined  only  to  be  turned  from  with 
disgust.  A temporary  condition  of  this  sort,  connected 
with  the  religious  evolution  of  a singularly  lofty  charac- 
ter, both  intellectual  and  moral,  is  well  described  by  the 
Catholic  philosopher.  Father  Gratry,  in  his  autobiographi- 
cal recollections.  In  consequence  of  mental  isolation  and 
excessive  study  at  the  Polytechnic  school,  young  Gratry 
fell  into  a state  of  nervous  exhaustion  with  symptoms 
which  he  thus  describes  : — 

“ I had  such  a universal  terror  that  I woke  at  night  with  a 
start,  thinking  that  the  Pantheon  was  tumbling  on  the  Poly- 
technic school,  or  that  the  school  was  in  flames,  or  that  the 
Seine  was  pouring  into  the  Catacombs,  and  that  Paris  was 
being  swallowed  up.  And  when  these  impressions  were  past, 
all  day  long  without  res23ite  I suffered  an  incurable  and  intol- 
erable desolation,  verging  on  despair.  I thought  myself,  in 
fact,  rejected  by  God,  lost,  damned  ! I felt  something  like  the 
suffering  of  hell.  Before  that  I had  never  even  thought  of 
hell.  My  mind  had  never  turned  in  that  direction.  Neither 
discourses  nor  reflections  had  impressed  me  in  that  way.  I 
took  no  account  of  hell.  Now,  and  all  at  once,  I suffered  in  a 
measure  what  is  suffered  there. 

“ But  what  was  perhajos  still  more  dreadful  is  that  every  idea 
of  heaven  was  taken  away  from  me  : I could  no  longer  conceive 
1 Ribot  : Psychologic  des  sentiments,  p.  54. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


147 


of  anything  of  the  sort.  Heaven  did  not  seem  to  me  worth 
, going  to.  It  was  like  a vacuum ; a mythological  elysium,  an 
; abode  of  shadows  less  real  than  the  earth.  I could  conceive  no 
; joy,  no  pleasure  in  inhabiting  it.  Happiness,  joy,  light,  affec- 
tion, love  — all  these  words  were  now  devoid  of  sense.  With- 
out doubt  I could  still  have  talked  of  all  these  things,  but  I had 
become  incapable  of  feeling  anything  in  them,  of  understanding 
anything  about  them,  of  hoping  anything  from  them,  or  of 
i believing  them  to  exist.  There  was  my  great  and  inconsolable 
grief ! I neither  perceived  nor  conceived  any  longer  the  exist- 
ence of  happiness  or  perfection.  An  abstract  heaven  over  a 
I naked  rock.  Such  was  my  present  abode  for  eternity.”  ^ 

So  much  for  melancholy  in  the  sense  of  incapacity 
for  joyous  feeling.  A much  worse  form  of  it  is  positive 
and  active  anguish,  a sort  of  psychical  neuralgia  whoUy 
I unknown  to  healthy  life.  Such  anguish  may  partake  of 
i various  characters,  having  sometimes  more  the  quahty  of 
■ loathing  ; sometimes  that  of  irritation  and  exasperation ; 
I or  again  of  self-mistrust  and  self-despair ; or  of  suspicion, 
anxiety,  trepidation,  fear.  The  patient  may  rebel  or  sub- 

^ A.  Gbatry  : Souvenirs  de  ma  jeunesse,  1880,  pp.  119-121,  abridged. 
Some  persons  are  affected  with  anhedonia  permanently,  or  at  any  rate  with 
a loss  of  the  usual  appetite  for  life.  The  annals  of  suicide  supply  such  ex- 
amples as  the  following  : — 

An  uneducated  domestic  servant,  aged  nineteen,  poisons  herself,  and 
leaves  two  letters  expressing  her  motive  for  the  act.  To  her  parents  she 
writes  : — 

“ Life  is  sweet  perhaps  to  some,  but  I prefer  what  is  sweeter  than  life, 
and  that  is  death.  So  good-by  forever,  my  dear  parents.  It  is  nobody’s 
fault,  but  a strong  desire  of  my  own  which  I have  longed  to  fulfill  for  three 
or  four  years.  I have  always  had  a hope  that  some  day  I might  have  an 
opportunity  of  fulfilling  it,  and  now  it  has  come.  . . . It  is  a wonder  I have 
put  this  off  so  long,  but  I thought  perhaps  I should  cheer  up  a bit  and  put 
all  thought  out  of  my  head.”  To  her  brother  she  writes  : “ Good-by  for- 
ever, my  own  dearest  brother.  By  the  time  you  get  this  I shall  be  gone  for- 
ever. I know,  dear  love,  there  is  no  forgiveness  for  what  I am  going  to 
do.  ...  I am  tired  of  living,  so  am  willing  to  die.  . . . Life  may  be  sweet 
to  some,  but  death  to  me  is  sweeter.”  S.  A.  K.  Strahan  ; Suicide  and 
Insanity,  2d  edition,  London,  1894,  p.  131. 


148  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


mit ; may  accuse  himself,  or  accuse  outside  powers  ; and 
he  may  or  he  may  not  be  tormented  by  the  theoretical 
mystery  of  why  he  should  so  have  to  suffer.  Most  cases 
are  mixed  cases,  and  we  should  not  treat  our  classifi- 
cations with  too  much  respect.  Moreover,  it  is  only  a 
relatively  small  proportion  of  cases  that  connect  them- 
selves with  the  rehgious  sphere  of  experience  at  aU. 
Exasperated  cases,  for  instance,  as  a rule  do  not.  I quote 
now  literally  from  the  first  case  of  melancholy  on  which 
I lay  my  hand.  It  is  a letter  from  a patient  in  a French 
asylum. 

“ I suffer  too  much  in  this  hospital,  both  physically  and  mor- 
ally. Besides  the  burnings  and  the  sleeplessness  (for  I no 
longer  sleep  since  I am  shut  up  here,  and  the  little  rest  I get  is 
broken  by  bad  dreams,  and  I am  waked  with  a jump  by  night 
mares,  dreadful  visions,  lightning,  thunder,  and  the  rest),  fear, 
atrocious  fear,  presses  me  down,  holds  me  without  respite,  never 
lets  me  go.  Where  is  the  justice  in  it  all ! What  have  I done 
to  deserve  this  excess  of  severity  ? Under  what  form  will  this 
fear  crush  me  ? What  would  I not  owe  to  any  one  who  would 
rid  me  of  my  life ! Eat,  drink,  lie  awake  all  night,  suffer  with- 
out interruption  — such  is  the  fine  legacy  I have  received  from 
my  mother ! What  I fail  to  understand  is  this  abuse  of  power. 
There  are  limits  to  everything,  there  is  a middle  way.  But 
God  knows  neither  middle  way  nor  limits.  I say  God,  but 
why  ? All  I have  known  so  far  has  been  the  devil.  After  all, 
I am  afraid  of  God  as  much  as  of  the  devil,  so  I drift  along, 
thinking  of  nothing  but  suicide,  but  with  neither  courage  nor 
means  here  to  execute  the  act.  As  you  read  this,  it  will  easily 
prove  to  you  my  insanity.  The  style  and  the  ideas  are  incoher- 
?nt  enough  — I can  see  that  myself.  But  I cannot  keep  myself 
from  being  either  crazy  or  an  idiot ; and,  as  things  are,  from 
whom  should  I ask  pity  ? I am  defenseless  against  the  invis- 
ible enemy  who  is  tightening  his  coils  around  me.  I should  be 
no  better  armed  against  him  even  if  I saw  him,  or  had  seen 
him.  Oh,  if  he  would  but  kill  me,  devil  take  him  ! Deaths 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


149 


death,  once  for  all ! But  I stop.  I have  raved  to  you  long 
enough.  I say  raved,  for  I can  write  no  otherwise,  having 
neither  brain  nor  thoughts  left.  O God ! what  a misfortune 
to  be  born ! Born  like  a mushroom,  doubtless  between  an 
evening  and  a morning  ; and  how  true  and  right  I was  when  in 
our  philosophy-year  in  college  I chewed  the  cud  of  bitterness 
with  the  pessimists.  Yes,  indeed,  there  is  more  pain  in  life  than 
gladness  — it  is  one  long  agony  until  the  grave.  Think  how 
gay  it  makes  me  to  remember  that  this  horrible  misery  of  mine, 
coupled  with  this  unspeakable  fear,  may  last  fifty,  one  hundred, 
who  knows  how  many  more  years ! ” ^ 

This  letter  shows  two  things.  First,  you  see  how  the 
entire  consciousness  of  the  poor  man  is  so  choked  with 
the  feeling  of  evil  that  the  sense  of  there  being  any  good 
in  the  world  is  lost  for  him  altogether.  His  attention 
excludes  it,  cannot  admit  it : the  sun  has  left  his  heaven. 
And  secondly  you  see  how  the  querulous  temper  of  his 
misery  keeps  his  mind  from  taking  a religious  direction. 
Querulousness  of  mind  tends  in  fact  rather  towards  irre- 
ligion  ; and  it  has  played,  so  far  as  I know,  no  part 
whatever  in  the  construction  of  religious  systems. 

Religious  melancholy  must  be  cast  in  a more  melting 
mood.  Tolstoy  has  left  us,  in  his  book  called  My  Con- 
fession, a wonderful  account  of  the  attack  of  melancholy 
which  led  him  to  his  own  religious  conclusions.  The 
latter  in  some  respects  are  peculiar ; but  the  melancholy 
presents  two  characters  which  make  it  a typical  document 
for  our  present  purpose.  First  it  is  a well-marked  case 
of  anhedonia,  of  passive  loss  of  appetite  for  ail  life’s 
values ; and  second,  it  shows  how  the  altered  and  es- 
tranged aspect  which  the  world  assumed  in  consequence 
of  this  stimulated  Tolstoy’s  intellect  to  a gnawing,  cark- 
ing  questioning  and  effort  for  philosophic  relief.  I mean 

1 Roctbinovitch  et  Toulouse  : La  M^lancolie,  1897,  p.  170,  abridged. 


160  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


to  quote  Tolstoy  at  some  length  ; but  before  doing  so,  1 
will  make  a general  remark  on  each  of  these  two  points. 

First  on  our  spiritual  judgments  and  the  sense  of  value 
in  general. 

It  is  notorious  that  facts  are  compatible  with  opposite 
emotional  comments,  since  the  same  fact  will  inspire  en- 
tirely different  feehngs  in  different  persons,  and  at  differ- 
ent times  in  the  same  person  ; and  there  is  no  rationally 
deducible  connection  between  any  outer  fact  and  the 
sentiments  it  may  happen  to  provoke.  These  have  their 
source  in  another  sphere  of  existence  altogether,  in  the 
animal  and  spiritual  region  of  the  subject’s  being.  Con- 
ceive yourself,  if  possible,  suddenly  stripped  of  all  the 
emotion  with  which  your  world  now  inspires  you,  and  try 
to  imagine  it  as  it  exists,  purely  by  itself,  without  your 
favorable  or  unfavorable,  hopeful  or  apprehensive  com- 
ment. It  will  be  almost  impossible  for  you  to  realize 
such  a condition  of  negativity  and  deadness.  No  one 
portion  of  the  universe  would  then  have  importance  be- 
yond another ; and  the  whole  collection  of  its  things  and 
series  of  its  events  would  be  without  significance,  char- 
acter, expression,  or  perspective.  Whatever  of  value, 
interest,  or  meaning  our  respective  worlds  may  appear 
endued  with  are  thus  pure  gifts  of  the  spectator’s  mind. 
The  passion  of  love  is  the  most  familiar  and  extreme 
example  of  this  fact.  If  it  comes,  it  comes ; if  it  does 
not  come,  no  process  of  reasoning  can  force  it.  Yet  it 
transfoi’ms  the  value  of  the  creature  loved  as  utterly  as 
the  sunrise  transforms  Mont  Blanc  from  a corpse-like 
gray  to  a rosy  enchantment ; and  it  sets  the  whole  world 
to  a new  tune  for  the  lover  and  gives  a new  issue  to  his 
life.  So  with  fear,  with  indignation,  jealousy,  ambition, 
worship.  If  they  are  there,  life  changes.  And  whether 
they  shall  be  there  or  not  depends  almost  always  upon 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


151 


non-logical,  often  on  organic  conditions.  And  as  the 
' excited  interest  which  these  passions  put  into  the  world 
is  our  gift  to  the  world,  just  so  are  the  passions  them- 
selves gifts,  — gifts  to  us,  from  sources  sometimes  low 
and  sometimes  high ; but  almost  always  non-logical  and 
beyond  our  control.  How  can  the  moribund  old  man 
[ reason  back  to  himself  the  romance,  the  mystery,  the 
' imminence  of  great  things  with  which  our  old  earth 
tingled  for  him  in  the  days  when  he  was  young  and  well  ? 
Gifts,  either  of  the  flesh  or  of  the  spirit ; and  the  spirit 
bloweth  where  it  listeth ; and  the  world’s  materials  lend 
their  surface  passively  to  all  the  gifts  alike,  as  the  stage- 
setting receives  indifPerently  whatever  alternating  colored 
lights  may  be  shed  upon  it  from  the  optical  apparatus  in 
the  gallery. 

Meanwhile  the  practically  real  world  for  each  one  of 
us,  the  effective  world  of  the  individual,  is  the  compound 
world,  the  physical  facts  and  emotional  values  in  indis- 
tinguishable combination.  Withdraw  or  pervert  either 
factor  of  this  complex  resultant,  and  the  kind  of  experi- 
i ence  we  call  pathological  ensues. 

I In  Tolstoy’s  case  the  sense  that  life  had  any  meaning 
whatever  was  for  a time  whoUy  withdrawn.  The  result 
was  a transformation  in  the  whole  expression  of  reality. 
When  we  come  to  study  the  phenomenon  of  conversion 
or  rehgious  regeneration,  we  shall  see  that  a not  infre- 
quent consequence  of  the  change  operated  in  the  subject 
is  a transfiguration  of  the  face  of  nature  in  his  eyes.  A 
new  heaven  seems  to  shine  upon  a new  earth.  In  melan- 
chohacs  there  is  usually  a similar  change,  only  it  is  in  the 
reverse  direction.  The  world  now  looks  remote,  strange, 
sinister,  uncanny.  Its  color  is  gone,  its  breath  is  cold, 
there  is  no  specrdation  in  the  eyes  it  glares  with.  “ It  is 
as  if  I lived  in  another  century,”  says  one  asylum  patient. 


152  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

■ — ‘‘I  see  everything  through  a cloud,”  says  another, 
“ things  are  not  as  they  were,  and  I am  changed.”  — “I 
see,”  says  a third,  ‘‘  I touch,  but  the  things  do  not  come 
near  me,  a thick  veil  alters  the  hue  and  look  of  every- 
thing.” — “ Persons  move  like  shadows,  and  sounds  seem 
to  come  from  a distant  world.”  — “ There  is  no  longer 
any  past  for  me  ; people  appear  so  strange  ; it  is  as  if  I 
could  not  see  any  reality,  as  if  I were  in  a theatre  ; as  if 
people  were  actors,  and  everything  were  scenery  ; I can 
no  longer  find  myself ; I walk,  but  why  ? Everything 
floats  before  my  eyes,  but  leaves  no  impression.”  — “I 
weep  false  tears,  I have  unreal  hands  : the  things  I see 
are  not  real  things.”  — Such  are  expressions  that  natu- 
rally rise  to  the  lips  of  melancholy  subjects  describing 
their  changed  state.^ 

Now  there  are  some  subjects  whom  all  this  leaves  a 
prey  to  the  profoundest  astonishment.  The  strangeness 
is  wrong.  The  unreality  cannot  be.  A mystery  is  con- 
cealed, and  a metaphysical  solution  must  exist.  If  the 
natural  world  is  so  double-faced  and  unliomelike,  what 
world,  what  thing  is  real  ? An  urgent  wondering  and 
questioning  is  set  up,  a poring  theoretic  activity,  and 
in  the  desperate  effort  to  get  into  right  relations  with 
the  matter,  the  sufferer  is  often  led  to  what  becomes  for 
him  a satisfying  religious  solution. 

At  about  the  age  of  fifty,  Tolstoy  relates  that  he  began 
to  have  moments  of  perplexity,  of  what  he  calls  arrest, 
as  if  he  knew  not  ‘ how  to  live,’  or  what  to  do.  It  is  ob- 
vious that  these  were  moments  in  which  the  excitement 
and  interest  which  our  functions  naturally  bring  had 
ceased.  Life  had  been  enchanting,  it  was  now  flat  sober, 
more  than  sober,  dead.  Things  were  meaningless  whose 

^ I cull  these  examples  from  the  work  of  G.  Dumas  La  Tristesse  et  1» 
Joie,  1900. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


153 


meaning  had  always  been  self-evident.  The  questions 
‘Why?’  and  ‘ What  next?’  began  to  beset  him  more 
and  more  frequently.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  such  ques- 
tions must  be  answerable,  and  as  if  he  could  easily  find 
the  answers  if  he  would  take  the  time  ; but  as  they  ever 
became  more  urgent,  he  perceived  that  it  was  like  those 
first  discomforts  of  a sick  man,  to  which  he  pays  but  little 
attention  till  they  run  into  one  continuous  suffering,  and 
then  he  realizes  that  what  he  took  for  a passing  disorder 
means  the  most  momentous  thing  in  the  world  for  him, 
means  his  death. 

These  questions  ‘ Why  ? ’ ‘ Wherefore  ? ’ ‘ What  for  ? ’ 
found  no  response. 

“ I felt,”  says  Tolstoy,  “ that  something  had  broken  within 
me  on  which  my  life  had  always  rested,  that  I had  nothing 
left  to  hold  on  to,  and  that  morally  my  life  had  stopped.  An 
invincible  force  impelled  me  to  get  rid  of  my  existence,  in  one 
way  or  another.  It  cannot  be  said  exactly  that  I wished  to  kill 
myself,  for  the  force  which  drew  me  away  from  life  was  fuller, 
more  powerful,  more  general  than  any  mere  desire.  It  was  a 
force  like  my  old  aspiration  to  live,  only  it  impelled  me  in  the 
opposite  direction.  It  was  an  aspiration  of  my  whole  being  to 
get  out  of  life. 

“ Behold  me  then,  a man  happy  and  in  good  health,  hiding 
the  rope  in  order  not  to  hang  myself  to  the  rafters  of  the  room 
where  every  night  I went  to  sleep  alone  ; behold  me  no  longer 
going  shooting,  lest  I should  yield  to  the  too  easy  temptation  of 
putting  an  end  to  myself  with  my  gun. 

“ I did  not  know  what  I wanted.  I was  afraid  of  life ; I 
was  driven  to  leave  it ; and  in  spite  of  that  I still  hoped  some- 
thing from  it. 

“ All  this  took  place  at  a time  when  so  far  as  all  my  outer 
circumstances  went,  I ought  to  have  been  completely  happy.  I 
had  a good  wife  who  loved  me  and  whom  I loved;  good  chil- 
dren and  a large  property  which  was  increasing  with  no  pains 
taken  on  my  part.  I was  more  respected  by  my  kinsfolk  and 


154  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


acquaintance  than  I had  ever  been ; I was  loaded  with  praise 
by  strangers  ; and  without  exaggeration  I could  believe  my 
name  already  famous.  Moreover  I was  neither  insane  nor  ill. 
On  the  contrary,  I possessed  a physical  and  mental  strength 
which  I have  rarely  met  in  persons  of  my  age.  I could  mow 
as  well  as  the  peasants,  I c6uld  work  with  my  brain  eight  hours 
uninterruptedly  and  feel  no  bad  effects. 

“ And  yet  I could  give  no  reasonable  meaning  to  any  actions 
of  my  life.  And  I was  surprised  that  I had  not  understood 
this  from  the  very  beginning.  My  state  of  mind  was  as  if 
some  wicked  and  stupid  jest  was  being  played  upon  me  by  some 
one.  One  can  live  only  so  long  as  one  is  intoxicated,  drunk 
with  life  ; but  when  one  grows  sober  one  cannot  fail  to  see 
that  it  is  all  a stupid  cheat.  What  is  truest  about  it  is  that 
there  is  nothing  even  funny  or  silly  in  it ; it  is  cruel  and  stupid, 
purely  and  simply. 

“ The  oriental  fable  of  the  traveler  surprised  in  the  desert 
by  a wild  beast  is  very  old. 

“ Seeking  to  save  himself  from  the  fierce  animal,  the  traveler 
jumps  into  a well  with  no  water  in  it ; but  at  the  bottom  of 
this  well  he  sees  a dragon  waiting  with  open  mouth  to  devour 
him.  And  the  unhappy  man,  not  daring  to  go  out  lest  he 
should  be  the  prey  of  the  beast,  not  daring  to  jum^)  to  the 
bottom  lest  he  should  be  devoured  by  the  dragon,  clings  to  the 
branches  of  a wild  bush  which  grows  out  of  one  of  the  cracks 
of  the  well.  His  hands  weaken,  and  he  feels  that  he  must  soon 
give  way  to  certain  fate ; but  still  he  clings,  and  sees  two  mice, 
one  white,  the  other  black,  evenly  moving  round  the  bush  to 
which  he  hangs,  and  gnawing  off  its  roots. 

“ The  traveler  sees  this  and  knows  that  he  must  inevitably 
perish ; but  while  thus  hanging  he  looks  about  him  and  finds 
on  the  leaves  of  the  bush  some  drops  of  honey.  These  he 
reaches  with  his  tongue  and  licks  them  off  with  rapture. 

“ Thus  I hang  upon  the  boughs  of  life,  knowing  that  the 
inevitable  dragon  of  death  is  waiting  ready  to  tear  me,  and 
I cannot  comprehend  why  I am  thus  made  a martyr.  I try  to 
suck  the  honey  which  formerly  consoled  me ; but  the  honey 
pleases  me  no  longer,  and  day  and  night  the  white  mouse  and 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


155 


i the  black  mouse  gnaw  the  branch  to  which  1 cling.  I can  see 
I but  one  thing : the  inevitable  dragon  and  the  mice  — I cannot 
turn  my  gaze  away  from  them. 

; “ This  is  no  fable,  but  the  literal  incontestable  truth  which 

; every  one  may  understand.  What  will  be  the  outcome  of  what 
I do  to-day  ? Of  what  I shall  do  to-morrow  ? What  will  be 
the  outcome  of  all  my  life  ? Why  should  I live?  Why  should 
I do  anything  ? Is  there  in  life  any  purpose  which  the  inev- 
itable death  which  awaits  me  does  not  undo  and  destroy  ? 

“ These  questions  are  the  simplest  in  the  world.  From  the 
stupid  child  to  the  wisest  old  man,  they  are  in  the  soul  of  every 
human  being.  Without  an  answer  to  them,  it  is  impossible,  as 
I experienced,  for  life  to  go  on. 

“ ‘ But  perhaps,’  I often  said  to  myself,  ‘ there  may  be  some- 
thing I have  failed  to  notice  or  to  comprehend.  It  is  not 
possible  that  this  condition  of  despair  should  be  natural  to 
■ mankind.’  And  I sought  for  an  explanation  in  all  the  branches 
' of  knowledge  acquired  by  men.  I questioned  painfully  and 
protractedly  and  with  no  idle  curiosity.  I sought,  not  with 
indolence,  but  laboriously  and  obstinately  for  days  and  nights 
: together.  I sought  like  a man  who  is  lost  and  seeks  to  save 
^ himself,- — -and  I found  nothing.  I became  convinced,  more- 
over, that  all  those  who  before  me  had  sought  for  an  answer  in 
the  sciences  have  also  found  nothing.  And  not  only  this,  but 
that  they  have  recognized  that  the  very  thing  which  was  lead- 
ing me  to  despair  — the  meaningless  absurdity  of  life  — is  the 
only  incontestable  knowledge  accessible  to  man.” 

To  prove  this  point,  Tolstoy  quotes  the  Buddha,  Solo- 
mon, and  Schopenhauer.  And  he  finds  only  four  ways 
: in  which  men  of  his  own  class  and  society  are  accustomed 
to  meet  the  situation.  Either  mere  animal  blindness, 
sucking  the  honey  without  seeing  the  dragon  or  the 
mice,  — “ and  from  such  a way,”  he  says,  “ I can  learn 
nothing,  after  what  I now  know  ; ” or  reflective  epicurean- 
ism, snatching  what  it  can  while  the  day  lasts,  — which  is 
only  a more  deliberate  sort  of  stupefaction  than  the  first ; 


156  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


or  manly  suicide ; or  seeing  the  mice  and  dragon  and  yet 
weakly  and  plaintively  clinging  to  the  bush  of  life. 

Suicide  was  naturally  the  consistent  course  dictated  by 
the  logical  intellect. 

“ Yet,”  says  Tolstoy,  “ whilst  my  intellect  was  working,  some- 
thing else  in  me  was  working  too,  and  kept  me  from  the  deed 
— a consciousness  of  life,  as  I may  call  it,  which  was  like  a 
force  that  obliged  my  mind  to  fix  itself  in  another  direction 
and  draw  me  out  of  my  situation  of  despair.  . . . During  the 
whole  course  of  this  year,  when  I almost  unceasingly  kept  ask- 
ing myself  how  to  end  the  business,  whether  by  the  rope  or  by 
the  bullet,  during  all  that  time,  alongside  of  all  those  move- 
ments of  my  ideas  and  observations,  my  heart  kept  languishing 
with  another  pining  emotion.  I can  call  this  by  no  other  name 
than  that  of  a thirst  for  God.  This  craving  for  God  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  movement  of  my  ideas,  — in  fact,  it  was 
the  direct  contrary  of  that  movement,  — but  it  came  from  my 
heart.  It  was  like  a feeling  of  dread  that  made  me  seem  like 
an  orphan  and  isolated  in  the  midst  of  all  these  things  that 
were  so  foreign.  And  this  feeling  of  dread  was  mitigated  by 
the  hope  of  finding  the  assistance  of  some  one.”  ^ 

0£  the  process,  intellectual  as  well  as  emotional,  which, 
starting  from  this  idea  of  God,  led  to  Tolstoy’s  recovery, 
I will  say  nothing  in  this  lecture,  reserving  it  for  a later 
hour.  The  only  thing  that  need  interest  us  now  is  the 
phenomenon  of  his  absolute  disenchantment  with  ordi- 
nary life,  and  the  fact  that  the  whole  range  of  habitual 
values  may,  to  a man  as  powerful  and  full  of  faculty  as 
he  was,  come  to  appear  so  ghastly  a mockery. 

When  disillusionment  has  gone  as  far  as  this,  there  is 
seldom  a restitutio  ad  integrtim.  One  has  tasted  of  the 
fruit  of  the  tree,  and  the  happiness  of  Eden  never  comes 
again.  The  happiness  that  comes,  when  any  does  come, 

^ My  extracts  are  from  the  French  translation  by  ‘ ZONIA.’  In  abi-»dging 
I have  taken  the  liberty  of  transposing  one  passage. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


157 


> — and  often  enough  it  fails  to  return  in  an  acute  form, 
though  its  form  is  sometimes  very  acute,  — is  not  the 
simple  ignorance  of  ill,  but  something  vastly  more  com- 
plex, including  natural  evil  as  one  of  its  elements,  but 
finding  natural  evil  no  such  stumbling-block  and  terror 
because  it  now  sees  it  swallowed  up  in  supernatural  good. 
The  process  is  one  of  redemption,  not  of  mere  reversion 
to  natural  health,  and  the  sufierer,  when  saved,  is  saved 
by  what  seems  to  him  a second  birth,  a deeper  kind  of 
conscious  being  than  he  could  enjoy  before. 

We  find  a somewhat  different  type  of  religious  melan- 
choly enshrined  in  literature  in  John  Bunyan’s  autobio- 
graphy. Tolstoy’s  preoccupations  were  largely  objective, 
for  the  purpose  and  meaning  of  life  in  general  was  what 
so  troubled  him ; but  poor  Bunyan’s  troubles  were  over 
the  condition  of  his  own  personal  self.  He  was  a typical 
case  of  the  psychopathic  temperament,  sensitive  of  con- 
science to  a diseased  degree,  beset  by  doubts,  fears,  and 
insistent  ideas,  and  a victim  of  verbal  automatisms,  both 
motor  and  sensory.  These  were  usually  texts  of  Scrip- 
ture which,  sometimes  damnatory  and  sometimes  favor- 
able, would  come  in  a half-hallucinatory  form  as  if  they 
were  voices,  and  fasten  on  his  mind  and  buffet  it  between 
them  like  a shuttlecock.  Added  to  this  were  a fearful 
melancholy  self-contempt  and  despair. 

“ Nay,  thought  I,  now  I grow  worse  and  worse ; now  I am 
farther  from  conversion  than  ever  I was  before.  If  now  I 
should  have  burned  at  the  stake,  I could  not  believe  that  Christ 
had  love  for  me ; alas,  I could  neither  hear  him,  nor  see  him, 
nor  feel  him,  nor  savor  any  of  his  things.  Sometimes  I would 
tell  my  condition  to  the  people  of  God,  which,  when  they  heard, 
they  would  pity  me,  and  would  tell  of  the  Promises.  But  they 
had  as  good  have  told  me  that  I must  reach  the  Sun  with  mj 
finger  as  have  bidden  me  receive  or  rely  upon  the  Promise 


158  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


[Yet]  all  tills  while  as  to  the  act  of  sinning,  I never  was  more 
tender  than  now ; I durst  not  take  a pin  or  stick,  though  but 
so  big  as  a straw,  for  my  conscience  now  was  sore,  and  would 
smart  at  every  touch  ; I could  not  tell  how  to  speak  my  words, 
for  fear  I should  misplace  them.  Oh,  how  gingerly  did  I then 
go,  in  all  I did  or  said ! I found  myself  as  on  a miry  bog  that 
shook  if  I did  but  stir ; and  was  as  there  left  both  by  God  and 
Christ,  and  the  spirit,  and  all  good  things. 

“ But  my  original  and  inward  pollution,  that  was  my  plague 
and  my  affliction.  By  reason  of  that,  I was  more  loathsome  in 
my  own  eyes  than  was  a toad ; and  I thought  I was  so  in  God’s 
eyes  too.  Sin  and  corruption,  I said,  would  as  naturally  bubble 
out  of  my  heart  as  water  would  bubble  out  of  a fountain.  I 
could  have  changed  heart  with  anybody.  I thought  none  but 
the  Devil  himself  could  equal  me  for  inward  wickedness  and 
pollution  of  mind.  Sure,  thought  I,  I am  forsaken  of  God  ; and 
thus  I continued  a long  while,  even  for  some  years  together. 

“ And  now  I was  sorry  that  God  had  made  me  a man.  The 
beasts,  birds,  fishes,  etc.,  I blessed  their  condition,  for  they  had 
not  a sinful  nature ; they  were  not  obnoxious  to  the  wrath  of 
God ; they  were  not  to  go  to  hell-fire  after  death.  I could 
therefore  have  rejoiced,  had  my  condition  been  as  any  of 
theirs.  Now  I blessed  the  condition  of  the  dog  and  toad, 
yea,  gladly  would  I have  been  in  the  condition  of  the  dog 
or  horse,  for  I knew  they  had  no  soul  to  perish  under  the 
everlasting  weight  of  Hell  or  Sin,  as  mine  was  like  to  do. 
Nay,  and  though  I saw  this,  felt  this,  and  was  broken  to  pieces 
with  it,  yet  that  which  added  to  my  sorrow  was,  that  I could 
not  find  with  all  my  soul  that  I did  desire  deliverance.  My 
heart  was  at  times  exceedingly  hard.  If  I would  have  given 
a thousand  pounds  for  a tear,  I could  not  shed  one  ; no,  nor 
sometimes  scarce  desire  to  shed  one. 

“ I was  both  a burthen  and  a terror  to  myself ; nor  did  I 
ever  so  know,  as  now,  what  it  was  to  be  weary  of  my  life,  and 
yet  afraid  to  die.  How  gladly  would  I have  been  anything  but 
myself ! Anything  but  a man ! and  in  any  condition  but  my 
own.”  ^ 

' Grace  abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sinners  : I have  printed  a number  of 
detached  passages  continuously. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


169 


Poor  patient  Bunyan,  like  Tolstoy,  saw  the  light  again, 
but  we  must  also  postpone  that  part  of  his  story  to  an- 
other hour.  In  a later  lecture  I will  also  give  the  end 
of  the  experience  of  Henry  AUine,  a devoted  evangelist 
who  worked  in  Nova  Scotia  a hundred  years  ago,  and 
who  thus  vividly  describes  the  high-water  mark  of  the 
religious  melancholy  which  formed  its  beginning.  The 
type  was  not  unlike  Bunyan’s. 

“ Everything  I saw  seemed  to  be  a burden  to  me  ; the  earth 
seemed  accursed  for  my  sake : all  trees,  plants,  rocks,  hills, 
and  vales  seemed  to  be  dressed  in  mourning  and  groaning, 
under  the  weight  of  the  curse,  and  everything  around  me 
seemed  to  be  conspiring  my  ruin.  My  sins  seemed  to  be  laid 
open ; so  that  1 thought  that  every  one  I saw  knew  them,  and 
sometimes  I was  almost  ready  to  acknowledge  many  things, 
which  I thought  they  knew : yea  sometimes  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  every  one  was  pointing  me  out  as  the  most  guilty  wretch  upon 
earth.  I had  now  so  great  a sense  of  the  vanity  and  emptiness 
of  all  things  here  below,  that  I knew  the  whole  world  could  not 
possibly  make  me  happy,  no,  nor  the  whole  system  of  creation. 
When  I waked  in  the  morning,  the  first  thought  would  be.  Oh, 
my  wretched  soul,  what  shall  I do,  where  shall  I go  ? And 
when  I laid  down,  would  say,  I shall  be  perhaps  in  hell  before 
morning.  I would  many  times  look  on  the  beasts  with  envy, 
wishing  with  all  my  heart  I was  in  their  place,  that  I might 
have  no  soul  to  lose ; and  when  I have  seen  birds  flying  over 
my  head,  have  often  thought  within  myself.  Oh,  that  I could 
fiy  away  from  my  danger  and  distress  ! Oh,  how  happy  should 
I be,  if  I were  in  their  place  ! ” ^ 

Envy  of  the  placid  beasts  seems  to  be  a very  wide- 
spread affection  in  this  type  of  sadness. 

The  worst  kind  of  melancholy  is  that  which  takes  the 

^ The  Life  and  Journal  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Henry  Alline,  Boston,  1806, 
pp.  25,  26.  I owe  my  acquaintance  with  this  book  to  my  colleague,  Dr. 
Benjamin  Rand. 


160  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


form  of  panic  fear.  Here  is  an  excellent  example,  for 
permission  to  print  which  I have  to  thank  the  sufferer. 
The  original  is  in  French,  and  though  the  subject  was 
evidently  in  a bad  nervous  condition  at  the  time  of  which 
he  writes,  his  case  has  otherwise  the  merit  of  extreme 
simplicity.  I translate  freely. 

“ Whilst  in  this  state  of  philosophic  pessimism  and  general 
depression  of  spirits  about  my  prospects,  I went  one  evening 
into  a dressing-room  in  the  twilight  to  procure  some  article  that 
was  there  ; when  suddenly  there  fell  upon  me  without  any 
warning,  just  as  if  it  came  out  of  the  darkness,  a horrible  fear 
of  my  own  existence.  Simultaneously  there  arose  in  my  mind 
the  image  of  an  epileptic  patient  whom  I had  seen  in  the  asy- 
lum, a black-haired  youth  with  greenish  skin,  entirely  idiotic, 
who  used  to  sit  all  day  on  one  of  the  benches,  or  rather  shelves 
against  the  wall,  with  his  knees  drawn  up  against  his  chin, 
and  the  coarse  gray  undershirt,  which  was  his  only  garment, 
drawn  over  them  inclosing  his  entire  figure.  He  sat  there  like 
a sort  of  sculptured  Egyptian  cat  or  Peruvian  mummy,  moving 
nothing  but  his  black  eyes  and  looking  absolutely  non-human. 
This  image  and  my  fear  entered  into  a species  of  combination 
with  each  other.  That  shape  am  7, 1 felt,  potentially.  Nothing 
that  I possess  can  defend  me  against  that  fate,  if  the  hour  for 
it  should  strike  for  me  as  it  struck  for  him.  There  was  such  a 
horror  of  him,  and  such  a perception  of  my  own  merely  momen- 
tary discrepancy  from  him,  that  it  was  as  if  something  hitherto 
solid  within  my  breast  gave  way  entirely,  and  I became  a mass 
of  quivering  fear.  After  this  the  universe  was  changed  for  me 
altogether.  I awoke  morning  after  morning  with  a horrible 
dread  at  the  pit  of  my  stomach,  and  with  a sense  of  the  inse- 
curity of  life  that  I never  knew  before,  and  that  I have  never 
felt  since.^  It  was  like  a revelation  ; and  although  the  imme- 

^ Compare  Bunyan : “ There  was  I struck  into  a very  great  trembling, 
insomuch  that  at  some  times  I could,  for  days  together,  feel  my  very  body, 
as  well  as  my  mind,  to  shake  and  totter  under  the  sense  of  the  dreadful 
judgment  of  God,  that  should  fall  on  those  that  have  sinned  that  most  fear- 
ful and  unpardonable  sin.  I felt  also  such  clogging  and  heat  at  my  stom- 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


161 


diate  feelings  passed  away,  the  experience  has  made  me  sympa^ 
thetic  with  the  morbid  feelings  of  others  ever  since.  It  grad- 
ually faded,  but  for  months  I was  unable  to  go  out  into  the 
dark  alone. 

“In  general  I dreaded  to  be  left  alone.  I remember  won- 
dering how  other  people  could  live,  how  I myself  had  ever 
lived,  so  unconscious  of  that  pit  of  insecurity  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  life.  My  mother  in  particular,  a very  cheerful  per- 
son, seemed  to  me  a perfect  paradox  in  her  unconsciousness  of 
danger,  which  you  may  weU  believe  I was  very  careful  not  to 
disturb  by  revelations  of  my  own  state  of  mind.  I have  always 
thought  that  this  experience  of  melancholia  of  mine  had  a reli- 
gious bearing.” 

On  asking  this  correspondent  to  explain  more  fully 
what  he  meant  by  these  last  words,  the  answer  he  wrote 
was  this  : — 

“ I mean  that  the  fear  was  so  invasive  and  powerful  that  if  I 
had  not  clung  to  scripture-texts  like  ‘ The  eternal  God  is  my 
refuge,’  etc.,  ‘ Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden,’  etc.,  ‘ I am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,’  etc.,  I think  I 
should  have  grown  really  insane.”  ^ 

There  is  no  need  of  more  examples.  The  cases  we 
have  looked  at  are  enough.  One  of  them  gives  us  the 
vanity  of  mortal  things ; another  the  sense  of  sin ; and 
the  remaining  one  describes  the  fear  of  the  universe ; — 
and  in  one  or  other  of  these  three  ways  it  always  is  that 
man’s  original  optimism  and  self-satisfaction  get  leveled 
with  the  dust. 

In  none  of  these  cases  was  there  any  intellectual  insan- 

ach,  by  reason  of  this  my  terror,  that  I was,  especially  at  some  times,  as  if 
my  breast-bone  would  have  split  asunder.  . . . Thus  did  I wind,  and  twine, 
and  shrink,  under  the  burden  that  was  upon  me  ; which  burden  also  did 
so  oppress  me  that  I conld  neither  stand,  nor  go,  nor  lie,  either  at  rest  or 
quiet.” 

1 For  another  ease  of  fear  equally  sudden,  see  Henry  James  : Society 
the  Redeemed  Form  of  Man,  Boston,  1879,  pp.  43  ff. 


162  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ity  or  delusion  about  matters  of  fact ; but  were  we  dis- 
posed to  open  the  chapter  of  really  insane  melancholia, 
with  its  hallucinations  and  delusions,  it  would  be  a worse 
story  still  — desperation  absolute  and  complete,  the  whole 
universe  coagulating  about  the  sufferer  into  a material  of 
overwhelming  horror,  surrounding  him  without  opening 
or  end.  Not  the  conception  or  intellectual  perception  of 
evil,  but  the  grisly  blood-freezing  heart-palsying  sensation 
of  it  close  upon  one,  and  no  other  conception  or  sensation 
able  to  live  for  a moment  in  its  presence.  How  irrele- 
vantly remote  seem  all  our  usual  refined  optimisms  and 
intellectual  and  moral  consolations  in  presence  of  a need 
of  help  like  this  ! Here  is  the  real  core  of  the  religious 
problem  : Help  ! help  ! No  prophet  can  claim  to  bring 
a final  message  unless  he  says  things  that  will  have  a 
sound  of  reality  in  the  ears  of  victims  such  as  these. 
But  the  deliverance  must  come  in  as  strong  a form  as 
the  complaint,  if  it  is  to  take  effect ; and  that  seems  a 
reason  why  the  coarser  religions,  revivalistic,  orgiastic, 
with  blood  and  miracles  and  supernatural  operations,  may 
possibly  never  be  displaced.  Some  constitutions  need 
them  too  much. 

Arrived  at  this  point,  we  can  see  how  great  an  antag- 
onism may  naturally  arise  between  the  healthy-minded 
way  of  viewing  life  and  the  way  that  takes  all  this  expe- 
rience of  evil  as  something  essential.  To  this  latter 
way,  the  morbid-minded  way,  as  we  might  call  it,  healthy- 
mindedness  pure  and  simple  seems  unspeakably  blind  and 
shallow.  To  the  healthy-minded  way,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  way  of  the  sick  soul  seems  unmanly  and  diseased. 
With  their  grubbing  in  rat-holes  instead  of  living  in  the 
light ; with  their  manufacture  of  fears,  and  preoccupation 
with  every  unwholesome  kind  of  misery,  there  is  some- 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


163 


thing  almost  obscene  about  these  children  of  wrath  and 
cravers  of  a second  birth.  If  rehgious  intolerance  and 
hanging  and  burning  could  again  become  the  order  of 
the  day,  there  is  little  doubt  that,  however  it  may  have 
been  in  the  past,  the  healthy-minded  would  at  present 
show  themselves  the  less  indulgent  party  of  the  two. 

In  our  own  attitude,  not  yet  abandoned,  of  impartial 
onlookers,  what  are  we  to  say  of  this  quarrel  ? It  seems 
to  me  that  we  are  bound  to  say  that  morbid-mindedness 
ranges  over  the  wider  scale  of  experience,  and  that  its 
survey  is  the  one  that  overlaps.  The  method  of  avert- 
ing one’s  attention  from  evil,  and  living  simply  in  the 
light  of  good  is  splendid  as  long  as  it  will  work.  It  will 
work  with  many  persons ; it  will  work  far  more  gener- 
ally than  most  of  us  are  ready  to  suppose  ; and  within 
the  sphere  of  its  successful  operation  there  is  nothing  to 
be  said  against  it  as  a religious  solution.  But  it  breaks 
down  impotently  as  soon  as  melancholy  comes  ; and  even 
though  one  be  quite  free  from  melancholy  one’s  self,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  healthy-mindedness  is  inadequate  as  a 
philosophical  doctrine,  because  the  evil  facts  which  it 
refuses  positively  to  account  for  are  a genuine  portion 
of  reality ; and  they  may  after  aU  be  the  best  key  to  life’s 
significance,  and  possibly  the  only  openers  of  our  eyes  to 
the  deepest  levels  of  truth. 

The  normal  process  of  life  contains  moments  as  bad 
as  any  of  those  which  insane  melancholy  is  filled  with, 
moments  in  which  radical  evil  gets  its  innings  and  takes 
its  solid  turn.  The  lunatic’s  visions  of  horror  are  aU 
drawn  from  the  material  of  daily  fact.  Our  civilization 
is  founded  on  the  shambles,  and  every  individual  exist- 
ence goes  out  in  a lonely  spasm  of  helpless  agony.  If 
you  protest,  my  friend,  wait  till  you  arrive  there  your- 
self ! To  believe  in  the  carnivorous  reptiles  of  geologic 


164  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


times  is  hard  for  our  imagination  — they  seem  too  much 
like  mere  museum  specimens.  Yet  there  is  no  tooth  in 
any  one  of  those  museum  - skulls  that  did  not  daily 
through  long  years  of  the  foretime  hold  fast  to  the  body 
strugghng  in  despair  of  some  fated  living  victim.  Forms 
of  horror  just  as  dreadful  to  their  victims,  if  on  a smaller 
spatial  scale,  fill  the  world  about  us  to-day.  Here  on  our 
very  hearths  and  in  our  gardens  the  infernal  cat  plays 
with  the  panting  mouse,  or  holds  the  hot  bird  fluttering 
in  her  jaws.  Crocodiles  and  rattlesnakes  and  pythons 
are  at  this  moment  vessels  of  life  as  real  as  we  are  ; their 
loathsome  existence  fills  every  minute  of  every  day  that 
drags  its  length  along ; and  whenever  they  or  other  wild 
beasts  clutch  their  living  prey,  the  deadly  horror  which 
an  agitated  melancholiac  feels  is  the  literally  right  reac- 
tion on  the  situation.^ 

It  may  indeed  be  that  no  religious  reconciliation  with 
the  absolute  totality  of  things  is  possible.  Some  evils, 
indeed,  are  ministerial  to  higher  forms  of  good  ; but  it 

^ Example  : “ It  was  about  eleven  o’clock  at  night  . . . but  I strolled 
on  still  with  the  people.  . . . Suddenly  upon  the  left  side  of  our  road,  a 
crackling  was  heard  among  the  bushes  ; all  of  us  were  alarmed,  and  in  an 
instant  a tiger,  rushing  out  of  the  jungle,  pounced  upon  the  one  of  the  party 
that  was  foremost,  and  carried  him  off  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  rush 
of  the  animal,  and  the  crush  of  the  poor  victim’s  bones  in  his  mouth,  and  his 
last  cry  of  distress,  ‘ Ho  hai  ! ’ involuntarily  reechoed  by  all  of  us,  was  over 
in  three  seconds  ; and  then  I know  not  what  happened  till  I returned  to  my 
senses,  when  I found  myself  and  companions  lying  down  on  the  ground  as  if 
prepared  to  be  devoured  by  our  enemy,  the  sovereign  of  the  forest.  I find 
my  pen  incapable  of  describing  the  terror  of  that  dreadful  moment.  Our 
limbs  stiffened,  our  power  of  speech  ceased,  and  our  hearts  heat  violently, 
and  only  a whisper  of  the  same  ‘ Ho  hai  ! ’ was  heard  from  us.  In  this 
state  we  crept  on  all  fours  for  some  distance  back,  and  then  ran  for  life 
with  the  speed  of  an  Arab  horse  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  fortunately 
happened  to  come  to  a small  village.  . . . After  this  every  one  of  us  was 
attacked  with  fever,  attended  with  shivering,  in  which  deplorable  state  we 
remained  till  morning.” — Autobiography  of  Lutfullah,  a Mohammedan 
Gentleman,  Leipzig,  1857,  p.  112. 


THE  SICK  SOUL 


165 


may  be  that  there  are  forms  of  evil  so  extreme  as  to  enter 
into  no  good  system  whatsoever,  and  that,  in  respect  of 
such  evil,  dumb  submission  or  neglect  to  notice  is  the 
only  practical  resource.  This  question  must  confront  us 
on  a later  day.  But  provisionally,  and  as  a mere  matter 
of  program  and  method,  since  the  evil  facts  are  as  genuine 
parts  of  nature  as  the  good  ones,  the  philosophic  pre- 
sumption should  be  that  they  have  some  rational  signifi- ' 
cance,  and  that  systematic  healthy-mindedness,  failing  as 
it  does  to  accord  to  sorrow,  pain,  and  death  any  positive 
and  active  attention  whatever,  is  formally  less  complete 
than  systems  that  try  at  least  to  include  these  elements  in 
their  scope. 

The  completest  religions  woidd  therefore  seem  to  be 
those  in  which  the  pessimistic  elements  are  best  devel- 
oped. Buddhism,  of  course,  and  Christianity  are  the 
best  known  to  us  of  these.  They  are  essentially  religions 
of  deliverance : the  man  must  die  to  an  unreal  life  before 
he  can  be  born  into  the  real  life.  In  my  next  lecture,  I 
will  try  to  discuss  some  of  the  psychological  conditions 
of  this  second  birth.  Fortunately  from  now  onward 
we  shall  have  to  deal  with  more  cheerful  subjects  than 
those  which  we  have  recently  been  dwelling  on. 


LECTURE  VIII 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF,  AND  THE  PROCESS  OF  ITS 
UNIFICATION 

The  last  lecture  was  a painful  one,  dealing-  as  it  did 
with  evil  as  a pervasive  element  of  the  world  we 
live  in.  At  the  close  of  it  we  were  brought  into  full 
view  of  the  contrast  between  the  two  ways  of  looking 
at  life  which  are  characteristic  respectively  of  what  we 
called  the  healthy-minded,  who  need  to  be  born  only 
once,  and  of  the  sick  souls,  who  must  be  twice-born  in 
order  to  be  happy.  The  result  is  two  different  con- 
ceptions of  the  universe  of  our  experience.  In  the  re- 
ligion of  the  once-born  the  world  is  a sort  of  rectilinear 
or  one-storied  affair,  whose  accounts  are  kept  in  one  de- 
nomination, whose  parts  have  just  the  values  which  natu- 
rally they  appear  to  have,  and  of  which  a simple  alge- 
braic sum  of  pluses  and  minuses  will  give  the  total  worth. 
Happiness  and  religious  peace  consist  in  living  on  the 
plus  side  of  the  account.  In  the  religion  of  the  twice- 
born,  on  the  other  hand,  the  world  is  a double-storied 
mystery.  Peace  cannot  be  reached  by  the  simple  addition 
of  pi  uses  and  elimination  of  minuses  from  life.  Natural 
good  is  not  simply  insufficient  in  amount  and  transient, 
there  lurks  a falsity  in  its  very  being.  Cancelled  as  it 
all  is  by  death  if  not  by  earlier  enemies,  it  gives  no  final 
balance,  and  can  never  be  the  thing  intended  for  our  last- 
ing worship.  It  keeps  us  from  our  real  good,  rather; 
and  renunciation  and  despair  of  it  are  our  first  step  in 
the  direction  of  the  truth.  There  are  two  lives,  the  nat- 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


167 


ural  and  the  spiritual,  and  we  must  lose  the  one  before 
we  can  participate  in  the  other. 

In  their  extreme  forms,  of  pure  naturalism  and  pure 
salvationism,  the  two  types  are  violently  contrasted ; 
though  here  as  in  most  other  current  classifications,  the 
radical  extremes  are  somewhat  ideal  abstractions,  and  the 
concrete  human  beings  whom  we  oftenest  meet  are  inter- 
mediate varieties  and  mixtures.  Practically,  however, 
you  all  recognize  the  difference  : you  understand,  for  ex- 
ample, the  disdain  of  the  methodist  convert  for  the  mere 
sky-blue  healthy-minded  moralist ; and  you  likewise  enter 
into  the  aversion  of  the  latter  to  what  seems  to  him  the 
diseased  subjectivism  of  the  Methodist,  dying  to  live,  as 
he  calls  it,  and  making  of  paradox  and  the  inversion  of 
natural  appearances  the  essence  of  God’s  truth.^ 

The  psychological  basis  of  the  twice-born  character 
seems  to  be  a certain  discordancy  or  heterogeneity  in  the 
native  temperament  of  the  subject,  an  incompletely  uni- 
fied moral  and  intellectual  constitution. 

“ Homo  duplex,  homo  duplex  ! ” writes  Alphonse  Daudet. 
“The  first  time  that  I perceived  that  I was  two  was  at  the 
death  of  my  brother  Henri,  when  my  father  cried  out  so  dra- 
matically, ‘ He  is  dead,  he  is  dead ! ’ While  my  first  self  wept, 
my  second  self  thought,  ‘ How  truly  given  was  that  cry,  how 
fine  it  would  be  at  the  theatre.’  I was  then  fourteen  vears 
old. 

“ This  horrible  duality  has  often  given  me  matter  for  reflec- 
tion. Oh,  this  terrible  second  me,  always  seated  whilst  the 
other  is  on  foot,  acting,  living,  suffering,  bestirring  itself.  This 

^ E.  g.,  “ Out  young  people  are  diseased  with  the  theological  problems 
of  original  sin,  origin  of  evil,  predestination,  and  the  like.  These  never 
presented  a practical  difficulty  to  any  man — never  darkened  across  any 
man’s  road,  who  did  not  go  out  of  his  way  to  seek  them.  These  are  the 
soul’s  mumps,  and  measles,  and  whocping-coughs,”  etc.  Emeeson  : ‘ Spir- 
itual Laws.’ 


168  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


second  me  that  I have  never  been  able  to  intoxicate,  to  make 
shed  tears,  or  put  to  sleep.  And  how  it  sees  into  things,  and 
how  it  mocks  ! ” ^ 

Recent  works  on  the  psychology  of  character  have 
had  much  to  say  upon  this  point.^  Some  persons  are 
born  with  an  inner  constitution  which  is  harmonious  and 
well  balanced  from  the  outset.  Their  impulses  are  con- 
sistent with  one  another,  their  will  follows  without 
trouble  the  guidance  of  their  intellect,  their  passions 
are  not  excessive,  and  their  lives  are  little  haunted  by 
regrets.  Others  are  oppositely  constituted ; and  are  so 
in  degrees  which  may  vary  from  something  so  slight  as 
to  result  in  a merely  odd  or  whimsical  inconsistency, 
to  a discordancy  of  which  the  consequences  may  be  in- 
convenient in  the  extreme.  Of  the  more  innocent  kinds 
of  heterogeneity  I find  a good  example  in  Mrs.  Annie 
Besant’s  autobiography. 

“ I have  ever  been  the  queerest  mixture  of  weakness  and 
strength,  and  have  paid  heavily  for  the  weakness.  As  a child 
I used  to  suffer  tortures  of  shyness,  and  if  my  shoe-lace  was 
untied  would  feel  shamefacedly  that  every  eye  was  fixed  on 
the  unlucky  string ; as  a girl  I would  shrink  away  from  stran- 
gers and  think  myself  unwanted  and  unliked,  so  that  I was  full 
of  eager  gratitude  to  any  one  who  noticed  me  kindly ; as  the 
young  mistress  of  a house  I was  afraid  of  my  servants,  and 
would  let  careless  work  pass  rather  than  bear  the  pain  of 
reproving  the  ill-doer ; when  I have  been  lecturing  and  debat- 
ing with  no  lack  of  spirit  on  the  platform,  I have  preferred  to  go 
without  what  I wanted  at  the  hotel  rather  than  to  ring  and  make 
the  waiter  fetch  it.  Combative  on  the  platform  in  defense  of 
any  cause  I cared  for,  I shrink  from  quarrel  or  disapproval  in 
the  house,  and  am  a coward  at  heart  in  private  while  a good 

' Notes  sur  la  Vie,  p.  1. 

2 See,  for  example,  F.  Paulhan,  In  his  book  Les  Caractferes,  1894,  who 
contrasts  les  Equilibrds,  les  Unifies,  with  les  Inquiets,  les  Contrariants,  les 
Incoh^rents,  les  Emiettds,  as  so  many  diverse  psychic  types. 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


169 


fighter  in  public.  How  often  have  I passed  unhappy  quarters 
of  an  hour  screwing  up  iny  courage  to  find  fault  with  some 
subordinate  whom  my  duty  compelled  me  to  reprove,  and  how 
often  have  I jeered  at  myself  for  a fraud  as  the  doughty  plat- 
form combatant,  when  shrinking  from  blaming  some  lad  or  lass 
for  doing  their  work  badly.  An  unkind  look  or  word  has 
availed  to  make  me  shrink  into  myself  as  a snail  into  its  shell, 
while,  on  the  platform,  opposition  makes  me  speak  my  best.”  ^ 

This  amount  of  inconsistency  will  only  count  as  ami- 
able weakness ; but  a stronger  degree  of  heterogeneity 
may  make  havoc  of  the  subject’s  life.  There  are  per- 
sons whose  existence  is  httle  more  than  a series  of  zig- 
zags, as  now  one  tendency  and  now  another  gets  the 
upper  hand.  Their  spirit  wars  with  their  flesh,  they 
wish  for  incompatibles,  wayward  impulses  interrupt  their 
most  deliberate  plans,  and  their  lives  are  one  long  drama 
of  repentance  and  of  effort  to  repair  misdemeanors  and 
mistakes. 

Heterogeneous  personality  has  been  explained  as  the 
result  of  inheritance  — the  traits  of  character  of  incom- 
patible and  antagonistic  ancestors  are  supposed  to  be 
preserved  alongside  of  each  other.^  This  explanation 
may  pass  for  what  it  is  worth  — it  certainly  needs  cor- 
roboration. But  whatever  the  cause  of  heterogeneous 
personality  may  be,  we  find  the  extreme  examples  of  it 
in  the  psychopathic  temperament,  of  which  I spoke  in  my 
first  lecture.  All  writers  about  that  temperament  make 
the  inner  heterogeneity  prominent  in  their  descriptions. 
Frequently,  indeed,  it  is  only  this  trait  that  leads  us  to 
ascribe  that  temperament  to  a man  at  all.  A ^ dege- 
nere  superieur  ’ is  simply  a man  of  sensibility  in  many 
directions,  who  finds  more  difficulty  than  is  common  in 

1 Annie  Besant  : an  Autobiography,  p.  82. 

^ Smith  Baker,  in  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases,  September, 
1893. 


170  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

keeping  his  spiritual  house  in  order  and  running  his  fur* 
row  straight,  because  his  feelings  and  impulses  are  too 
keen  and  too  discrepant  mutually.  In  the  haunting  and 
insistent  ideas,  in  the  irrational  impulses,  the  morbid 
scruples,  dreads,  and  inhibitions  which  beset  the  psycho- 
pathic temperament  when  it  !■=  thoroughly  pronounced, 
we  have  exquisite  examples  of  heterogeneous  personality. 
Bunyan  had  an  obsession  of  the  words,  “ Sell  Christ  for 
this,  sell  him  for  that,  sell  him,  sell  him ! ” which  would 
run  through  his  mind  a hundred  times  together,  until  one 
day  out  of  breath  with  retorting,  “ I will  not,  I will  not,” 
he  impulsively  said,  ‘‘  Let  him  go  if  he  will,”  and  this 
loss  of  the  battle  kept  him  in  despair  for  over  a year. 
The  lives,  of  the  saints  are  full  of  such  blasphemous 
obsessions,  ascribed  invariably  to  the  direct  agency  of 
Satan.  The  phenomenon  connects  itself  with  the  hfe  of 
the  subconscious  self,  so-called,  of  which  we  must  ere- 
long speak  more  directly. 

Now  in  all  of  us,  however  constituted,  but  to  a degree 
the  greater  in  proportion  as  we  are  intense  and  sensitive 
and  subject  to  diversified  temptations,  and  to  the  greatest 
possible  degree  if  we  are  decidedly  psychopathic,  does 
the  normal  evolution  of  character  chiefly  consist  in  the 
I straightening  out  and  unifying  of  the  inner  self.  The 
higher  and  the  lower  feelings,  the  useful  and  the  erring 
impulses,  begin  by  being  a comparative  chaos  within  us  — 
they  must  end  by  forming  a stable  system  of  functions 
in  right  subordination.  Unhappiness  is  apt  to  character- 
ize the  period  of  order-making  and  struggle.  If  the  indi- 
vidual be  of  tender  conscience  and  religiously  quickened, 
the  unhappiness  will  take  the  form  of  moral  remorse  and 
compunction,  of  feeling  inwardly  vile  and  wrong,  and  of 
standing  in  false  relations  to  the  author  of  one’s  being 
and  appointer  of  one’s  spiritual  fate.  This  is  the  reli* 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


171 


gious  melancholy  and  ‘ conviction  of  sin  ’ that  have  played 
so  large  a part  in  the  history  of  Protestant  Christianity. 
The  man’s  interior  is  a battle-ground  for  what  he  feels  to 
be  two  deadly  hostile  selves,  one  actual,  the  other  ideal. 
As  Victor  Hugo  makes  his  Mahomet  say : — 

“ Je  suis  le  champ  vil  des  sublimes  combats  : 

Tantot  riiomme  d’eu  haut,  et  tautot  I’homme  d’en  bas  ; 

Et  le  mal  dans  ma  bouebe  avec  le  bieii  alterne, 

Comme  daus  le  ddsert  le  sable  et  la  citerue.” 

Wrong  living,  impotent  aspirations ; “ What  I would,  that 
do  I not ; but  what  I hate,  that  do  I,”  as  Saint  Paul  says ; 
self-loathing,  self-despair ; an  unintelligible  and  intoler- 
able burden  to  which  one  is  mysteriously  the  heir. 

Let  me  quote  from  some  typical  cases  of  discordant 
personality,  with  melancholy  in  the  form  of  seK-condem- 
nation  and  sense  of  sin.  Saint  Augustine’s  case  is  a classic 
example.  You  all  remember  his  half -pagan,  half-Chris- 
tian bringing  up  at  Carthage,  his  emigration  to  Rome  and 
Milan,  his  adoption  of  Manicheism  and  subsequent  skep- 
ticism, and  his  restless  search  for  truth  and  purity  of  life ; 
and  finally  how,  distracted  by  the  struggle  between  the 
two  souls  in  his  breast,  and  ashamed  of  his  own  weak- 
ness of  will,  when  so  many  others  whom  he  knew  and 
knew  of  had  thrown  off  the  shackles  of  sensuality  and 
dedicated  themselves  to  chastity  and  the  higher  life,  he 
heard  a voice  in  the  garden  say,  Sume,  lege  ” (take  and 
read),  and  opening  the  Bible  at  random,  saw  the  text, 
“not  in  chambering  and  wantonness,”  etc.,  wRich  seemed 
directly  sent  to  his  address,  and  laid  the  inner  storm 
to  rest  forever.^  Augustine’s  psychological  genius  has 

^ Louis  Gourdon  (Essai  sur  la  Conversion  de  Saint  Augustine,  Paris, 
Fischbacher,  1900)  has  shown  by  an  analysis  of  Augustine’s  writings  imme- 
diately after  the  date  of  his  conversion  (a.  d.  386)  that  the  account  he  gives 
in  the  Confessions  is  premature.  The  crisis  in  the  garden  marked  a defini- 
tive conversion  from  his  former  life,  but  it  was  to  the  neo-platonic  spiritualism 


172  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


given  an  account  o£  the  trouble  of  having  a divided  self 
which  has  never  been  surpassed. 

“ The  new  will  which  I began  to  have  was  not  yet  strong 
enough  to  overcome  that  other  will,  strengthened  by  long  in- 
dulgence. So  these  two  wills,  one  old,  one  new,  one  carnal,  the 
other  spiritual,  contended  with  each  other  and  disturbed  iny 
soul.  I understood  by  my  own  experience  what  I had  read, 
‘ flesh  lusteth  against  spirit,  and  spirit  against  flesh.’  It  was 
myself  indeed  in  both  the  wills,  yet  more  myself  in  that  which 
I approved  in  myself  than  in  that  which  I disapproved  in  m}-- 
self.  Yet  it  was  tlu’ough  myself  that  habit  had  attained  so 
fierce  a mastery  over  me,  because  I had  willingly  come  whither 
I willed  not.  Still  bound  to  earth,  I refused,  O God,  to  fight 
on  thy  side,  as  much  afraid  to  be  freed  from  all  bonds,  as  I 
ought  to  have  feared  being  trammeled  by  them. 

“ Thus  the  thoughts  by  which  1 meditated  upon  thee  were 
like  the  efforts  of  one  who  would  awake,  but  being  overpowered 
with  sleepiness  is  soon  asleep  again.  Often  does  a man  when 
heavy  sleepiness  is  on  his  limbs  defer  to  shake  it  off,  and  though 
not  approving  it,  encourage  it ; even  so  I was  sure  it  was  better 
to  surrender  to  thy  love  than  to  yield  to  ray  own  lusts,  yet,  though 
the  former  course  convinced  me,  the  latter  pleased  and  held  me 
bound.  There  was  naught  in  me  to  answer  thy  call,  ‘ Awake, 
thou  sleeper,’  but  only  drawling,  drowsy  words,  ‘ Presently ; yes, 
presently ; wait  a little  while.’  But  the  ‘ presently  ’ had  no 
‘ present,’  and  the  ‘ little  while  ’ grew  long.  . . . For  I was  afraid 
thou  wouldst  hear  me  too  soon,  and  heal  me  at  once  of  my  dis- 
ease of  lust,  which  I wished  to  satiate  rather  than  to  see  extin- 
guished. With  what  lashes  of  words  did  I not  scourge  my  own 
soul.  Yet  it  shrank  back ; it  refused,  though  it  had  no  excuse 
to  offer.  ...  I said  within  myself : ‘ Come,  let  it  be  done  now,’ 
and  as  I said  it,  I was  on  the  point  of  the  resolve.  I all  but 
did  it,  yet  I did  not  do  it.  And  I made  another  effort,  and 
almost  succeeded,  yet  I did  not  reach  it,  and  did  not  grasp  it, 
hesitating  to  die  to  death,  and  live  to  life ; and  the  evil  to  which 

ctnd  only  a halfway  stage  toward  Christianity.  The  latter  he  appears  not 
fully  and  radically  to  have  embraced  until  four  years  more  had  passed. 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


173 


I was  so  wonted  held  me  more  than  the  better  life  I had  not 
tried.”  ^ 

There  could  be  no  more  perfect  description  of  the 
divided  will,  when  the  higher  wishes  lack  just  that  last 
acuteness,  that  touch  of  explosive  intensity,  of  dynamo- 
genic  quahty  (to  use  the  slang  of  the  psychologists),  that 
enables  them  to  burst  their  shell,  and  make  irruption 
efficaciously  into  life  and  quell  the  lower  tendencies  for- 
ever. In  a later  lecture  we  shall  have  much  to  say 
about  this  higher  excitability. 

I find  another  good  description  of  the  divided  will  in 
the  autobiography  of  Henry  Allin e,  the  Nova  Scotian 
evangehst,  of  whose  melancholy  I read  a brief  account  in 
my  last  lecture.  The  poor  youth’s  sins  were,  as  you  will 
see,  of  the  most  harmless  order,  yet  they  interfered  with 
what  proved  to  be  his  truest  vocation,  so  they  gave  him 
great  distress. 

“ I was  now  very  moral  in  my  life,  but  found  no  rest  of  son- 
science.  I now  began  to  be  esteemed  in  young  company,  who 
knew  nothing  of  my  mind  all  this  while,  and  their  esteem  began 
to  be  a snare  to  my  soul,  for  I soon  began  to  be  fond  of  cai-nal 
mirth,  though  I still  flattered  myself  that  if  I did  not  get  drunk, 
nor  curse,  nor  swear,  there  would  be  no  sin  in  frolicking  and 
carnal  mirth,  and  I thought  God  would  indulge  young  people 
with  some  (what  I called  simple  or  civil)  recreation.  I still 
kept  a round  of  duties,  and  would  not  suffer  myself  to  run  into 
any  open  vices,  and  so  got  along  very  well  in  time  of  health 
and  prosperity,  but  wheu  I was  distressed  or  threateraed  by 
sickness,  death,  or  heavy  storms  of  thunder,  my  religion  would 
not  do,  and  I found  there  was  something  wanting,  and  would 
begin  to  repent  my  going  so  much  to  frolics,  but  when  the 
distress  was  over,  the  devil  and  my  own  wicked  heart,  with  the 
solicitations  of  my  associates,  and  my  fondness  for  young  com- 
1 Confessions,  Book  VIII.,  chaps,  v.,  vii.,  xi.,  abridged. 


174  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


pany,  were  such  strong  allurements,  I would  again  give  way, 
and  thus  I got  to  be  very  wild  and  rude,  at  the  same  time  kept 
up  my  rounds  of  secret  prayer  and  reading ; but  God,  not  will- 
ing I should  destroy  myself,  still  followed  me  with  his  calls,  and 
moved  with  such  power  upon  my  conscience,  that  I could  not 
satisfy  myself  with  my  diversions,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  mirth 
sometimes  would  have  such  a sense  of  my  lost  and  undone  con- 
dition, that  I would  wish  myself  from  the  company,  and  after 
it  was  over,  when  I went  home,  would  make  many  promises 
that  I would  attend  no  more  on  these  frolics,  and  would  bea' 
forgiveness  for  hours  and  hours  ; but  when  I came  to  have  the 
temptation  again,  I would  give  way  : no  sooner  would  I hear 
the  music  and  drink  a glass  of  wine,  but  I would  find  my  mind 
elevated  and  soon  proceed  to  any  sort  of  merriment  or  diver- 
sion, that  I thought  was  not  debauched  or  openly  vicious  ; but 
when  I returned  from  my  carnal  mirth  I felt  as  guilty  as  ever, 
and  could  sometimes  not  close  my  eyes  for  some  hours  after  I 
had  gone  to  my  bed.  I was  one  of  the  most  unhappy  creatures 
on  earth. 

“ Sometimes  I would  leave  the  company  (often  speaking  to 
the  fiddler  to  cease  from  playing,  as  if  I was  tired),  and  go  out 
and  walk  about  crying  and  praying,  as  if  my  very  heart  would 
break,  and  beseeching  God  that  he  would  not  cut  me  off,  nor 
give  me  up  to  hardness  of  heart.  Oh,  what  unhappy  hours  and 
nights  I thus  wore  away ! When  I met  sometimes  with  merry 
companions,  and  my  heart  was  ready  to  sink,  I would  labor 
to  put  on  as  cheerful  a countenance  as  possible,  that  they  might 
not  distrust  anything,  and  sometimes  would  begin  some  dis- 
course with  young  men  or  young  women  on  purpose,  or  propose 
a merry  song,  lest  the  distress  of  my  soul  would  be  discovered, 
or  mistrusted,  when  at  the  same  time  I would  then  rather  have 
been  in  a wilderness  in  exile,  than  with  them  or  any  of  their 
pleasures  or  enjoyments.  Thus  for  many  months  when  I was 
in  company,  I would  act  the  hypocrite  and  feign  a merry  heart, 
but  at  the  same  time  would  endeavor  as  much  as  I could  to 
shun  their  company,  oh  wretched  and  unhappy  mortal  that  I 
was ! Everything  I did,  and  wherever  I went,  I was  still  in  a 
storm,  and  yet  I continued  to  be  the  chief  contriver  and  ring- 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


175 


i leader  of  the  frolics  for  many  months  after ; though  it  was  a 
t toil  and  torment  to  attend  them  ; but  the  devil  and  my  own 
j wicked  heart  drove  me  about  like  a slave,  telling  me  that  I 
\ must  do  this  and  do  that,  and  bear  this  and  bear  that,  and  turn 
i here  and  turn  there,  to  keep  my  credit  up,  and  retain  the 
esteem  of  my  associates  : and  all  this  while  I continued  as  strict 
as  possible  in  my  duties,  and  left  no  stone  unturned  to  pacify 
. my  conscience,  watching  even  against  my  thoughts,  and  praying 
I continually  wherever  I went : for  I did  not  think  there  was  any 
I sin  in  my  conduct,  when  I was  among  carnal  company,  because 
I I did  not  take  any  satisfaction  there,  but  only  followed  it,  I 
thought,  for  sufficient  reasons. 

“ But  still,  all  that  I did  or  could  do,  conscience  would  roar 
night  and  day.” 

Saint  Augustine  and  Alline  both  emerged  into  the 
I smooth  waters  of  inner  unity  and  peace,  and  I shall  next 
) ask  you  to  consider  more  closely  some  of  the  pecuHarities 
of  the  process  of  unification,  when  it  occurs.  It  may 
; come  gradually,  or  it  may  occur  abruptly ; it  may  come 
1 through  altered  feelings,  or  through  altered  powers  of 
\ action  ; or  it  may  come  through  new  intellectual  insights, 
or  through  experiences  which  we  shall  later  have  to  desig- 
I nate  as  ‘ mystical.’  However  it  come,  it  brings  a char- 
I acteristic  sort  of  relief ; and  never  such  extreme  rehef  as 
: when  it  is  cast  into  the  religious  mould.  Happiness ! 
happiness  ! religion  is  only  one  of  the  ways  in  which  men 
gain  that  gift.  Easily,  permanently,  and  successfully, 
it  often  transforms  the  most  intolerable  misery  into  the 
' profoundest  and  most  enduring  happiness. 

But  to  find  religion  is  only  one  out  of  many  ways 
of  reaching  unity ; and  the  process  of  remedying  inner 
incompleteness  and  reducing  inner  discord  is  a general 
psychological  process,  which  may  take  place  with  any  sort 
of  mental  material,  and  need  not  necessarily  assume  the 
religious  form.  In  judging  of  the  religious  types  of 


176  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

regeneration  which  we  are  about  to  study,  it  is  important 
to  recognize  that  they  are  only  one  species  of  a genus 
that  contains  other  types  as  well.  For  example,  the  new 
birth  may  be  away  from  religion  into  incredulity ; or  it 
may  be  from  moral  scrupulosity  into  freedom  and  license ; 
or  it  may  be  produced  by  the  irruption  into  the  individ- 
ual’s life  of  some  new  stimulus  or  passion,  such  as  love, 
ambition,  cupidity,  revenge,  or  patriotic  devotion.  In  all 
these  instances  we  have  precisely  the  same  psychological 
form  of  event,  — a firmness,  stabihty,  and  equilibrium 
succeeding  a period  of  storm  and  stress  and  inconsistency. 
In  these  non-religious  cases  the  new  man  may  also  be 
born  either  gradually  or  suddenly. 

The  French  philosopher  Jouffroy  has  left  an  eloquent 
memorial  of  his  own  ‘ counter-conversion,’  as  the  transi- 
tion from  orthodoxy  to  infidelity  has  been  well  styled 
by  Mr.  Starbuck.  Jouffroy’s  doubts  had  long  harassed 
him ; but  he  dates  his  final  crisis  from  a certain  night 
when  his  disbelief  grew  fixed  and  stable,  and  where  the 
immediate  result  was  sadness  at  the  illusions  he  had  lost. 

“ I shall  never  forget  that  night  of  December,”  writes  Jouf- 
froy, “in  which  the  veil  that  concealed  from  me  my  own  in-i 
credulity  was  torn.  I hear  again  my  steps  in  that  narrow 
naked  chamber  where  long  after  the  hour  of  sleep  had  come  I 
had  the  habit  of  walking  up  and  down.  I see  again  that  moon, 
half- veiled  by  clouds,  which  now  and  again  illuminated  the 
frigid  window-panes.  The  hours  of  the  night  flowed  on  and  I 
did  not  note  their  passage.  Anxiously  I followed  my  thoughts, 
as  from  layer  to  layer  they  descended  towards  the  foundation 
of  my  consciousness,  and,  scattering  one  by  one  all  the  illusions 
which  until  then  had  screened  its  windings  from  my  view,  made 
them  every  moment  more  clearly  visible. 

“ Vainly  I clung  to  these  last  beliefs  as  a shipwrecked  sailor 
clings  to  the  fragments  of  his  vessel ; vainly,  frightened  at  thej 
unknown  void  in  which  I was  about  to  float,  I turned  with  them. 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


177 


««wards  my  childhood,  my  family,  my  country,  all  that  was 
dear  and  sacred  to  me : the  inflexible  current  of  my  thought 
was  too  strong,  — parents,  family,  memory,  beliefs,  it  forced  me 
to  let  go  of  everything.  The  investigation  went  on  more  obsti- 
nate and  more  severe  as  it  drew  near  its  term,  and  did  not  stop 
until  the  end  was  reached.  I knew  then  that  in  the  depth  of 
my  mind  nothing  was  left  that  stood  erect. 

“ This  moment  was  a frightful  one ; and  when  towards  morn- 
ing I threw  myself  exhausted  on  my  bed,  I seemed  to  feel  my 
earlier  life,  so  smiling  and  so  full,  go  out  like  a fire,  and  before 
me  another  life  opened,  sombre  and  unpeopled,  where  in  future 
I must  live  alone,  alone  with  my  fatal  thought  which  had  exiled 
me  thither,  and  which  I was  tempted  to  curse.  The  days  which 
followed  this  discovery  were  the  saddest  of  my  life.”  ^ 

1 Th.  Jouffeoy:  Nouveaux  Melanges  pliilosophiques,  2me  edition,  p.  83. 
I add  two  other  cases  of  counter-couversion  dating  from  a certain  moment. 
The  first  is  from  Professor  Starbuek’s  manuscript  collection,  and  the  nar- 
rator is  a woman. 

“ Away  down  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I believe  I was  always  more  or 
less  skeptical  about  ‘ God;  ’ skepticism  grew  as  an  undercurrent,  all  through 
my  early  youth,  but  it  was  controlled  and  covered  by  the  emotional  ele- 
ments in  my  religious  growth.  When  I was  sixteen  I joined  the  church 
and  was  asked  if  I loved  God.  I replied  ‘ Yes,’  as  was  customary  and 
expected.  But  instantly  with  a flash  something  spoke  within  me,  ‘ No, 
you  do  not.’  I was  haunted  for  a long  time  with  shame  and  remorse  for 
my  falsehood  and  for  my  wickedness  in  not  loving  God,  mingled  with  fear 
that  there  might  be  an  avenging  God  who  would  punish  me  in  some  terrible 
way.  ...  At  nineteen,  I had  an  attack  of  tonsilitis.  Before  I had  quite 
recovered,  I lieard  told  a story  of  a brute  wbo  had  kicked  his  wife  down- 
stairs, and  then  continued  the  operation  until  she  became  insensible.  I felt 
the  horror  of  the  thing  keenly.  Instantly  this  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind:  ‘ I have  no  use  for  a God  who  permits  such  things.’  This  experience 
was  followed  by  months  of  stoical  indifference  to  the  God  of  my  previous 
life,  mingled  with  feelings  of  positive  dislike  and  a somewhat  proud  defiance 
of  him.  I still  thought  there  might  be  a God.  If  so  he  would  probably 
damn  me,  but  I should  have  to  stand  it.  I felt  very  little  fear  and  no 
desire  to  propitiate  him.  I have  never  had  any  personal  relations  with  him 
since  this  painful  experience.” 

The  second  case  exemplifies  how  small  an  additional  stimulus  will  over- 
throw the  mind  into  a new  state  of  equilibrium  when  the  process  of  prepa- 
ration and  incubation  has  proceeded  far  enough.  It  is  like  the  proverbial 
last  straw  added  to  the  camel’s  burden,  or  that  touch  of  a needle  which 


178  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


In  John  Foster’s  Essay  on  Decision  of  Character,  there 
is  an  account  of  a case  of  sudden  conversion  to  avarice, 
which  is  illustrative  enough  to  quote : — 

A young  man,  it  appears,  “ wasted,  in  two  or  three  years,  a 
large  patrimony  in  profligate  revels  with  a number  of  worthless 
associates  who  called  themselves  his  friends,  and  who,  when  his 
last  means  were  exhausted,  treated  him  of  course  with  neglect 
or  contempt.  Reduced  to  absolute  want,  he  one  day  went  out 
of  the  house  with  an  intention  to  put  an  end  to  his  life ; but 
wandering  awhile  almost  unconsciously,  he  came  to  the  brow  of 
an  eminence  which  overlooked  what  were  lately  his  estates. 
Here  he  sat  down,  and  remained  fixed  in  thought  a number  of 
hours,  at  the  end  of  which  he  sprang  from  the  ground  with  a 
vehement,  exulting  emotion.  He  had  formed  his  resolution, 
which  was,  that  all  these  estates  should  be  his  again  ; he  had 
formed  his  plan,  too,  which  he  instantly  began  to  execute.  He 
walked  hastily  forward,  determined  to  seize  the  first  opportu- 
nity, of  however  humble  a kind,  to  gain  any  money,  though  it 
were  ever  so  despicable  a trifle,  and  resolved  absolutely  not  to 

makes  the  salt  iii  a supersaturavv,d  fluid  suddenly  begin  to  crystallize 
out. 

Tolstoy  writes  : “ S.,  a frank  and  intelligent  man,  told  me  as  follows  how 
he  ceased  to  believe  : — 

“ He  was  twenty-six  years  old  when  one  day  on  a hunting  expedition,  the 
time  for  sleep  having  come,  he  set  himself  to  pray  according  to  tlie  custom 
he  had  held  from  childhood. 

“ His  brother,  who  was  hunting  with  him,  lay  upon  the  hay  and  looked  at 
him.  When  S.  had  finished  his  prayer  and  was  turning  to  sleep,  the  brother 
said,  ‘ Do  you  still  keep  up  that  thing  ? ’ Nothing  more  was  said.  But 
since  that  day,  now  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  S.  has  never  prayed  again  ; 
he  never  takes  communion,  and  does  not  go  to  church.  All  this,  not  be- 
cause he  became  acquainted  with  convictions  of  his  brother  which  he  then 
and  there  adopted  ; not  because  he  made  any  new  resolution  in  his  soul, 
but  merely  because  the  words  spoken  by  his  brother  were  like  the  light 
push  of  a finger  against  a leaning  wall  already  about  to  tumble  by  its  own 
weight.  These  words  but  showed  him  that  the  place  wherein  he  supposed 
religion  dwelt  in  him  had  long  been  empty,  and  that  the  sentences  he 
uttered,  the  crosses  and  bows  which  he  made  during  his  prayer,  were  ac- 
tions with  no  inner  sense.  Having  once  seized  their  absurdity,  he  could 
no  longer  keep  them  up.”  Ma  Confession,  p.  8. 


I'HE  DIVIDED  SELF 


179 


spend,  if  lie  could  help  it,  a farthing  of  whatever  he  might 
obtain.  The  first  thing  that  drew  his  attention  was  a heap  of 
coals  shot  out  of  carts  on  the  pavement  before  a house.  He 
offered  himself  to  shovel  or  wheel  them  into  the  place  where 
they  were  to  be  laid,  and  was  employed.  He  received  a few 
pence  for  the  labor ; and  then,  in  pursuance  of  the  saving  part 
of  his  plan,  requested  some  small  gratuity  of  meat  and  drink, 
yhich  was  given  him.  He  then  looked  out  for  the  next  thing 
that  might  chance ; and  went,  with  indefatigable  industry, 
through  a succession  of  servile  employments  in  different  places, 
of  longer  and  shorter  duration,  still  scrupulous  in  avoiding,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  expense  of  a penny.  He  promptly  seized 
every  opportunity  which  could  advance  his  design,  without  re- 
garding the  meanness  of  occupation  or  appearance.  By  this 
method  he  had  gained,  after  a considerable  time,  money  enough 
to  purchase  in  order  to  sell  again  a few  cattle,  of  which  he  had 
taken  pains  to  understand  the  value.  He  speedily  but  cau- 
tiously turned  his  first  gains  into  second  advantages ; retained 
without  a single  deviation  his  extreme  parsimony ; and  thus 
advanced  by  degrees  into  larger  transactions  and  incipient 
wealth.  I did  not  hear,  or  have  forgotten,  the  continued 
course  of  his  life,  but  the  final  result  was,  that  he  more  than 
recovered  his  lost  possessions,  and  died  an  inveterate  miser, 
worth  .£60,000.”  ^ 

* Op.  cit.,  Letter  III.,  abridged. 

I subjoin  an  additional  document  which  has  come  into  my  possession, 
and  which  represents  in  a vivid  way  what  is  probably  a very  frequent  sort 
of  conversion,  if  the  opposite  of  ‘ falling  in  love,’  falling  out  of  love,  may 
be  so  termed.  Falling  in  love  also  conforms  frequently  to  this  type,  a 
latent  process  of  unconscious  preparation  often  preceding  a sudden  awaken- 
ing to  the  fact  that  the  mischief  is  irretrievably  done.  The  free  and  easy 
tone  in  this  narrative  gives  it  a sincerity  that  speaks  for  itself. 

“ For  two  years  of  this  time  I went  through  a very  bad  experience,  which 
almost  drove  me  mad.  I had  fallen  violently  in  love  with  a girl  who, 
young  as  she  was,  had  a spirit  of  coquetry  like  a cat.  As  I look  back  on 
her  now,  I hate  her,  and  wonder  how  I could  ever  have  fallen  so  low  as  to 
be  worked  upon  to  such  an  extent  by  her  attractions.  Nevertheless,  I fell 
into  a regular  fever,  could  think  of  nothing  else  ; whenever  I was  alone,  I 
pictured  her  attractions,  and  spent  most  of  the  time  when  I should  have 
been  working,  in  recalling  our  previous  interviews,  and  imagining  future 
conversations.  She  was  very  pretty,  good  humored,  and  jolly  to  the  last 


180  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Let  me  turn  now  to  the  kind  of  case,  the  religious 
case,  namely,  that  immediately  concerns  us.  Here  is  one  of 

degree,  and  intensely  pleased  with  my  admiration.  Would  give  me  no  de^. 
cided  answer  yes  or  no,  and  the  queer  thing  about  it  was  that  whilst  pursu- 
ing her  for  her  hand,  I secretly  knew  all  along  that  she  was  unfit  to  be  a 
wife  for  me,  and  that  she  never  would  say  yes.  Although  for  a year  we 
took  our  meals  at  the  same  boarding-house,  so  that  I saw  her  continually 
and  familiarly,  our  closer  relations  had  to  be  largely  on  the  sly,  and  this 
fact,  together  with  my  jealousy  of  another  one  of  her  male  admirers,  and 
my  own  conscience  despising  me  for  my  uncontrollable  weakness,  made  me  so 
nervous  and  sleepless  that  I really  thought  I should  become  insane.  I under- 
stand well  those  young  men  murdering  their  sweethearts,  which  appear  so 
often  in  the  papers.  Nevertheless  I did  love  her  passionately,  and  in  some 
ways  she  did  deserve  it. 

“ The  queer  thing  w'as  the  sudden  and  unexpected  way  in  which  it  all 
stopped.  I was  going  to  my  work  after  breakfast  one  morning,  thinking  as 
usual  of  her  and  of  my  misery,  when,  just  as  if  some  outside  power  laid 
hold  of  me,  I found  myself  turning  round  and  almost  runniug  to  my  room, 
where  I immediately  got  out  all  the  relics  of  her  which  I possessed,  includ- 
ing some  hair,  all  her  notes  and  letters,  and  ambrotypes  on  glass.  The 
former  I made  a fire  of,  the  latter  I actually  crushed  beneath  my  heel,  in  a 
sort  of  fierce  joy  of  revenge  and  punishment.  I now  loathed  and  despised 
her  altogether,  and  as  for  myself  I felt  as  if  a load  of  disease  had  suddenly 
been  removed  from  me.  That  was  the  end.  I never  spoke  to  her  or  wrote 
to  her  again  in  all  the  subsequent  years,  and  I have  never  had  a single  mo- 
ment of  loving  thought  towards  one  who  for  so  many  months  entirely  filled 
my  heart.  In  fact,  I have  always  rather  hated  her  memory,  though  now  I 
can  see  that  I had  gone  unnecessarily  far  in  that  direction.  At  any  rate, 
from  that  happy  morning  onward  I regained  possession  of  my  own  proper 
soul,  and  have  never  since  fallen  into  any  similar  trap.” 

This  seems  to  me  an  unusually  clear  example  of  two  different  levels  of 
personality,  inconsistent  in  their  dictates,  yet  so  well  balanced  against  each 
other  as  for  a long  time  to  fill  the  life  with  discord  and  dissatisfaction.  At 
last,  not  gradually,  but  in  a sudden  crisis,  the  unstable  equilibrium  is  re- 
solved, and  this  happens  so  unexpectedly  that  it  is  as  if,  to  use  the  writer’s 
words,  “ some  outside  power  laid  hold.” 

Professor  Starbuck  gives  an  analogous  case,  and  a converse  case  of  hatred 
suddenly  turning  into  love,  in  his  Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  141.  Com- 
pare the  other  highly  curious  instances  which  he  gives  on  pp.  137-144,  of 
sudden  non-religious  alterations  of  habit  or  character.  He  seems  right  in 
conceiving  all  such  sudden  changes  as  results  of  special  cerebral  functions 
unconsciously  developing  until  they  are  ready  to  play  a controlling  part, 
when  they  make  irruption  into  the  conscious  life.  When  we  treat  of  sud- 
den ‘ conversion,’  I shall  make  as  much  use  as  I can  of  this  hypothesis  of 
subconscious  incubation. 


THE  HIVIDEJj  SELF 


181 


the  simplest  possible  type,  an  account  of  the  conversion 
to  the  systematic  religion  of  healthy-mindedness  of  a man 
who  must  already  have  been  naturally  of  the  healthy- 
minded  type.  It  shows  how,  when  the  fruit  is  ripe,  a 
touch  will  make  it  fall. 

Mr.  Horace  Fletcher,  in  his  little  book  called  Menti- 
culture,  relates  that  a friend  with  whom  he  was  talking 
of  the  self-control  attained  by  the  Japanese  through  their 
practice  of  the  Buddhist  discipline  said : — 

“ ‘ You  must  first  get  rid  of  anger  and  worry.’  ‘ But,’  said 
I,  ‘ is  that  possible  ? ’ ‘ Yes,’  replied  he  ; ‘ it  is  possible  to  the 

Japanese,  and  ought  to  be  possible  to  us.’ 

“ On  my  way  back  I could  think  of  nothing  else  but  the 
words  ‘ get  rid,  get  rid  ’ ; and  the  idea  must  have  continued  to 
possess  me  during  my  sleeping  hours,  for  the  first  consciousness 
in  the  morning  brought  back  the  same  thought,  with  the  revela- 
tion of  a discovery,  which  framed  itself  into  the  reasoning,  ‘ If 
it  is  possible  to  get  rid  of  anger  and  worry,  why  is  it  necessary 
to  have  them  at  all  ? ’ I felt  the  strength  of  the  argument,  and 
at  once  accepted  the  reasoning.  The  baby  had  discovered  that 
it  could  walk.  It  would  scorn  to  creep  any  longer. 

“ From  the  instant  I realized  that  these  cancer  spots  of  worry 
and  anger  were  removable,  they  left  me.  With  the  discovery 
of  their  weakness  they  were  exorcised.  From  that  time  life  has 
had  an  entirely  different  aspect. 

“ Although  from  that  moment  the  possibility  and  desirability 
of  freedom  from  the  depressing  passions  has  been  a reality  to 
me,  it  took  me  some  months  to  feel  absolute  security  in  my  new 
position  ; but,  as  the  usual  occasions  for  worry  and  anger  have 
presented  themselves  over  and  over  again,  and  I have  been 
unable  to  feel  them  in  the  slightest  degree,  I no  longer  dread 
or  guard  against  them,  and  I am  amazed  at  my  increased  energy 
and  vigor  of  mind ; at  my  strength  to  meet  situations  of  all 
kinds,  and  at  my  disposition  to  love  and  appreciate  everything. 

“ I have  had  occasion  to  travel  more  than  ten  thousand  miles 
by  rail  since  that  morning.  The  same  Pullman  porter,  con- 
ductor, hotel- waiter,  peddler,  book-agent,  cabman,  and  others 


382  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


who  were  formerl}'^  a source  of  annoyance  and  irritation  have 
been  met,  but  I am  not  conscious  of  a single  incivility.  All  at 
once  the  whole  world  has  turned  good  to  me.  1 have  become, 
as  it  were,  sensitive  only  to  the  rays  of  good. 

“ I could  recount  many  experiences  which  prove  a brand-new 
condition  of  mind,  but  one  will  be  sufficient.  Without  the 
slightest  feeling  of  annoyance  or  impatience,  I have  seen  a 
train  that  I had  planned  to  take  with  a good  deal  of  interested 
and  pleasurable  anticipation  move  out  of  the  station  without 
me,  because  my  baggage  did  not  arrive.  The  porter  from  the 
hotel  came  running  and  panting  into  the  station  just  as  the  train 
pulled  out  of  sight.  When  he  saw  me,  he  looked  as  if  he  feared 
a scolding,  and  began  to  tell  of  being  blocked  in  a crowded 
street  and  unable  to  get  out.  When  he  had  finished,  I said  to 
him  : ‘ It  does  n’t  matter  at  all,  you  could  n’t  help  it,  so  we  will 
try  again  to-morrow.  Here  is  your  fee,  I am  sorry  you  had  all 
this  trouble  in  earning  it.’  The  look  of  surprise  that  came 
*ver  his  face  was  so  filled  with  pleasure  that  I was  repaid  on 
the  spot  for  the  delay  in  my  departure.  Next  day  he  would 
not  accept  a cent  for  the  service,  and  he  and  I are  friends  for 
life. 

“ During  the  first  weeks  of  my  experience  I was  on  guard 
only  against  woi-ry  and  anger ; but,  in  the  mean  time,  having 
noticed  the  absence  of  the  other  depressing  and  dwarfing  pas- 
sions, I began  to  trace  a relationship,  until  I was  convinced 
that  they  are  all  growths  from  the  two  roots  I have  specified. 
I have  felt  the  freedom  now  for  so  long  a time  that  I am  sure 
of  my  relation  toward  it ; and  I could  no  more  harbor  any  of 
the  thieving  and  depressing  influences  that  once  I nursed  as  a 
heritage  of  humanity  than  a fop  would  voluntarily  wallow  in  a 
filthy  gutter. 

“ There  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  pure  Christianity  and 
pure  Buddhism,  and  the  Mental  Sciences  and  all  Religions, 
fundamentally  teach  what  has  been  a discovery  to  me ; but 
none  of  them  have  presented  it  in  the  light  of  a simple  and 
easy  process  of  elimination.  At  one  time  I wondered  if  the 
elimination  would  not  yield  to  indifference  and  sloth.  In  my 
experience,  the  contrary  is  the  result.  I feel  such  an  increased 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


183 


Jesire  to  do  something  useful  that  it  seems  as  if  I were  a boy 
again  and.  the  energy  for  play  had  returned.  I could  fight  as 
readily  as  (and  better  than)  ever,  if  there  were  occasion  for 
it.  It  does  not  make  one  a coward.  It  can’t,  since  fear  is 
one  of  the  things  eliminated.  I notice  the  absence  of  timidity 
in  the  presence  of  any  audience.  When  a boy,  I was  standing 
under  a tree  which  was  struck  by  lightning,  and  received  a 
shock  from  the  effects  of  which  I never  knew  exemption  until 
I had  dissolved  partnership  with  worry.  Since  then,  lightning 
and  thunder  have  been  encountered  under  conditions  which 
would  formerly  have  caused  great  depression  and  discomfort, 
without  [my]  experiencing  a trace  of  either.  Surprise  is  also 
greatly  modified,  and  one  is  less  liable  to  become  startled  by 
unexpected  sights  or  noises. 

“ As  far  as  I am  individually  concerned,  I am  not  bothering 
myself  at  present  as  to  what  the  results  of  this  emancipated 
condition  may  be.  I have  no  doubt  that  the  perfect  health 
aimed  at  by  Christian  Science  may  be  one  of  the  possibilities, 
for  I note  a marked  improvement  in  the  way  my  stomach  does 
its  duty  in  assimilating  the  food  I give  it  to  handle,  and  I am 
sure  it  works  better  to  the  sound  of  a song  than  under  the 
friction  of  a frown.  Neither  am  I wasting  any  of  this  precious 
time  formulating  an  idea  of  a future  existence  or  a future 
Heaven.  The  Heaven  that  I have  within  myself  is  as  attractive 
as  any  that  has  been  promised  or  that  I can  imagine ; and  I 
am  willing  to  let  the  growth  lead  where  it  will,  as  long  as  the 
anger  and  their  brood  have  no  part  in  misguiding  it.”  ^ 

The  older  medicine  used  to  speak  of  two  ways,  lysis 
and  crisis,  one  gradual,  the  other  abrupt,  in  which  one 
might  recover  from  a bodily  disease.  In  the  spiritual 
realm  there  are  also  two  ways,  one  gradual,  the  other 
sudden,  in  which  inner  unification  may  occur.  Tolstoy 
and  Bunyan  may  again  serve  us  as  examples,  examples,  as 
it  happens,  of  the  gradual  way,  though  it  must  be  con- 
fessed at  the  outset  that  it  is  hard  to  follow  these  wind- 

I H.  Fletcher  : Menticulture,  or  the  A-B-C  of  True  Living,  New  York 
and  Ohicago,  1899,  pp.  26-36,  abridged. 


184  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


ings  of  the  hearts  of  others,  and  one  feels  that  theii 
words  do  not  reveal  their  total  secret. 

Howe’er  this  be,  Tolstoy,  pursuing  his  unending  ques- 
tioning, seemed  to  come  to  one  insight  after  another. 
First  he  perceived  that  his  conviction  that  life  was  mean- 
ingless took  only  this  finite  life  into  account.  He  was 
looking  for  the  value  of  one  finite  term  in  that  of  an- 
other, and  the  whole  result  could  only  be  one  of  those 
indeterminate  equations  in  mathematics  which  end  with 
0—0.  Yet  this  is  as  far  as  the  reasoning  intellect  by 
itself  can  go,  unless  irrational  sentiment  or  faith  brings 
in  the  infinite.  Believe  in  the  infinite  as  common  people 
do,  and  life  grows  possible  again. 

“ Since  mankind  has  existed,  whei’ever  life  has  been,  there 
also  has  been  the  faith  that  gave  the  possibility  of  living.  Faith 
is  the  sense  of  life,  that  sense  by  virtue  of  which  man  does  not 
destroy  himself,  but  continues  to  live  on.  It  is  the  force  whereby 
we  live.  If  Man  did  not  believe  that  he  must  live  for  some- 
thing,  he  would  not  live  at  all.  The  idea  of  an  infinite  God,  of 
the  divinity  of  the  soul,  of  the  union  of  men’s  actions  with  God 

— these  are  ideas  elaborated  in  the  infinite  secret  depths  of 
human  thought.  They  are  ideas  without  which  there  would  be 
uo  life,  without  which  I myself,”  said  Tolstoy,  “ would  not  exist. 
I began  to  see  that  I had  no  right  to  rely  on  my  individual  rea- 
soning and  neglect  these  answers  given  by  faith,  for  they  are 
the  only  answers  to  the  question.” 

Yet  how  believe  as  the  common  people  beheve,  steeped 
as  they  are  in  grossest  superstition  ? It  is  impossible,  — 
but  yet  their  fife  ! their  life  ! It  is  normal.  It  is  happy  ! 
It  is  an  answer  to  the  question  ! 

Little  by  little,  Tolstoy  came  to  the  settled  conviction 

— he  says  it  took  him  two  years  to  arrive  there  — that 
his  trouble  had  not  been  with  life  in  general,  not  with 
the  common  life  of  common  men,  but  with  the  life  of  the 
upper,  intellectual,  artistic  classes,  the  life  which  he  had 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


185 


personally  always  led,  the  cerebral  life,  the  life  of  con- 
ventionality, artificiality,  and  personal  ambition.  He  had 
been  livmg  wrongly  and  must  change.  To  work  for 
animal  needs,  to  abjure  lies  and  vanities,  to  relieve  com- 
mon wants,  to  be  simple,  to  believe  in  God,  therein  lay 
happiness  again. 

“ I remember,”  he  says,  “ one  day  in  early  spring,  I was  alone 
in  the  forest,  lending  my  ear  to  its  mysterious  noises.  I listened, 
and  my  thought  went  back  to  what  for  these  three  years  it 
always  was  busy  with  — the  quest  of  God.  But  the  idea  of 
him,  I said,  how  did  I ever  come  by  the  idea  ? 

“ And  again  there  arose  in  me,  with  this  thought,  glad  aspi- 
rations towards  life.  Everything  in  me  awoke  and  received 
a meaning.  . . . Why  do  I look  farther  ? a voice  within  me 
asked.  He  is  there : he,  without  whom  one  cannot  live.  To 
acknowledge  God  and  to  live  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  God 
is  what  life  is.  Well,  then!  live,  seek  God,  and  there  will  be 
no  life  without  him.  . . . 

“ After  this,  things  cleared  up  within  me  and  about  me  bet- 
ter than  ever,  and  the  light  has  never  wholly  died  away.  I was 
saved  from  suicide.  Just  how  or  when  the  change  took  place  I 
cannot  tell.  But  as  insensibly  and  gradually  as  the  force  of 
life  had  been  annulled  within  me,  and  I had  reached  my  moral 
death-bed,  just  as  gradually  and  imperceptibly  did  the  energy 
of  life  come  back.  And  what  was  strange  was  that  this  energy 
that  came  back  was  nothing  new.  It  was  my  ancient  juvenile 
force  of  faith,  the  belief  that  the  sole  purpose  of  my  life  was  to 
be  better.  I gave  up  the  life  of  the  conventional  world,  recog- 
nizing it  to  be  no  life,  but  a parody  on  life,  which  its  superfluities 
simply  keep  us  from  comprehending,”  — and  Tolstoy  thereupon 
embraced  the  life  of  the  peasants,  and  has  felt  right  and  happy, 
or  at  least  relatively  so,  ever  since.^ 

As  I interpret  his  melancholy,  then,  it  was  not  merely 
an  accidental  vitiation  of  his  humors,  though  it  was  doubt- 
less also  that.  It  was  logically  called  for  by  the  clash 

* I Lave  considerably  abridged  Tolstoy’s  words  in  my  translation. 


186  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

between  his  inner  character  and  his  outer  activities  and 
aims.  Although  a literary  artist,  Tolstoy  was  one  of 
those  primitive  oaks  of  men  to  whom  the  superfluities 
and  insincerities,  the  cupidities,  complications,  and  cruel- 
ties of  our  polite  civilization  are  profoundly  unsatisfying, 
and  for  whom  the  eternal  veracities  he  with  more  natural 
and  animal  things.  His  crisis  was  the  getting  of  his 
soul  in  order,  the  discovery  of  its  genuine  habitat  and 
vocajion,  the  escape  from  falsehoods  into  what  for  him 
were  ways  of  truth.  It  was  a case  of  heterogeneous  per- 
sonality tardily  and  slowly  finding  its  unity  and  level. 
And  though  not  many  of  us  can  imitate  Tolstoy,  not 
having  enough,  perhaps,  of  the  aboriginal  human  marrow 
in  our  bones,  most  of  us  may  at  least  feel  as  if  it  might 
be  better  for  us  if  we  could. 

Bunyan’s  recovery  seems  to  have  been  even  slower. 
For  years  together  he  was  alternately  haunted  with  texts 
of  Scripture,  now  up  and  now  down,  but  at  last  with  an 
ever  growing  relief  in  his  salvation  through  the  blood  of 
Christ. 

“ My  peace  would  be  in  and  out  twenty  times  a day ; com- 
fort now  and  trouble  presently ; peace  now  and  before  I could 
go  a furlong  as  full  of  guilt  and  fear  as  ever  heart  could  hold.” 
When  a good  text  comes  home  to  him,  “ This,”  he  writes,  “ gave 
me  good  encouragement  for  the  space  of  two  or  three  hours  ” ; 
or  “ This  was  a good  day  to  me,  I hope  I shall  not  forget  it  ” ; 
or  “ The  glory  of  these  words  was  then  so  weighty  on  me  that 
I was  ready  to  swoon  as  I sat ; yet  not  with  grief  and  trouble, 
but  with  solid  joy  and  peace  ” ; or  “ This  made  a strange  seizure 
on  my  spirit ; it  brought  light  with  it,  and  commanded  a silence 
in  my  heart  of  all  those  tumultuous  thoughts  that  before  did 
use,  like  masterless  hell-hounds,  to  roar  and  bellow  and  make  a 
hideous  noise  within  me.  It  showed  me  that  Jesus  Christ  had 
not  quite  forsaken  and  cast  off  my  Soul.” 

Such  periods  accumulate  until  he  can  write : “ And  now 


THE  DIVIDED  SELF 


187 


remained  only  the  hinder  part  of  the  tempest,  for  the  thunder 
was  gone  beyond  me,  only  some  drops  would  still  remain,  that 
now  and  then  would  fall  upon  me  ” ; — and  at  last : “ Now  did 
my  chains  fall  off  my  legs  indeed  ; I was  loosed  from  my  afflic- 
tions and  irons ; my  temptations  also  fled  away ; so  that  from 
that  time,  those  dreadful  Scriptures  of  God  left  off  to  trouble 
me ; now  went  I also  home  rejoicing,  for  the  grace  and  love  of 
Godo  ...  Now  could  I see  myself  in  Heaven  and  Earth  at 
once ; in  Heaven  by  my  Christ,  by  my  Head,  by  my  Righteous- 
ness and  Life,  though  on  Earth  by  my  body  or  person.  . . . 
Christ  was  a precious  Christ  to  my  soul  that  night ; I could 
scarce  lie  in  my  bed  for  joy  and  peace  and  triumph  through 
Christ.” 

Bunyan  became  a minister  of  the  gospel,  and  in  spite 
of  his  neurotic  constitution,  and  of  the  twelve  years  he 
lay  in  prison  for  his  non-conformity,  his  life  was  turned  to 
active  use.  He  was  a peacemaker  and  doer  of  good,  and 
the  immortal  Allegory  which  he  wrote  has  brought  the 
very  spirit  of  religious  patience  home  to  English  hearts. 

But  neither  Bunyan  nor  Tolstoy  could  become  what 
we  have  called  healthy-minded.  They  had  drunk  too 
deeply  of  the  cup  of  bitterness  ever  to  forget  its  taste, 
and  their  redemption  is  into  a universe  two  stories  deep. 
Each  of  them  realized  a good  which  broke  the  effective 
edge  of  his  sadness  ; yet  the  sadness  was  preserved  as  a 
minor  ingredient  in  the  heart  of  the  faith  by  which  it 
was  overcome.  The  fact  of  interest  for  us  is  that  as  a 
matter  of  fact  they  could  and  did  find  something  welhng 
up  in  the  inner  reaches  of  their  consciousness,  by  which 
such  extreme  sadness  could  be  overcome.  Tolstoy  does 
well  to  talk  of  it  as  that  by  lohich  me7i  live  ; for  that  is  ex-  ** 
actly  what  it  is,  a stimulus,  an  excitement,  a faith,  a force 
that  re-infuses  the  positive  willingness  to  live,  even  in 
full  presence  of  the  evil  perceptions  that  erewhile  made 
life  seem  unbearable.  For  Tolstoy’s  perceptions  of  evil 


188  THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


appear  ■within  their  sphere  to  have  remained  unmodified. 
His  later  works  show  him  implacable  to  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  official  values  : the  ignobility  of  fashionable  life  ; 
the  infamies  of  empire ; the  spuriousness  of  the  church, 
the  vain  conceit  of  the  professions ; the  meannesses  and 
cruelties  that  go  with  great  success ; and  every  other 
pompous  crime  and  lying  institution  of  this  world.  To 
all  patience  with  such  things  his  experience  has  been  for 
him  a permanent  ministry  of  death. 

Bmiyan  also  leaves  this  world  to  the  enemy. 

“ I must  first  pass  a sentence  of  death,”  he  says,  “upon 
everything  that  can  properly  be  called  a thing  of  this  life,  even 
to  reckon  myself,  my  wife,  my  children,  my  health,  my  enjoy- 
ments, and  all,  as  dead  to  me,  and  myself  as  dead  to  them  ; to 
trust  in  God  through  Christ,  as  touching  the  world  to  come ; 
and  as  touching  this  world,  to  count  the  grave  my  house,  to 
make  my  bed  in  darkness,  and  to  say  to  corruption.  Thou  art 
my  father,  and  to  the  worm.  Thou  art  my  mother  and  sister.  . . . 
The  parting  with  my  wife  and  my  poor  children  hath  often 
been  to  me  as  the  pulling  of  my  flesh  from  my  bones,  especially 
my  poor  blind  child  who  lay  nearer  my  heart  than  all  I had 
besides.  Poor  child,  thought  I,  what  sorrow  art  thou  like  to 
have  for  thy  portion  in  this  world  ! Thou  must  be  beaten,  must 
beg,  suffer  hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  a thousand  calamities, 
though  I cannot  now  endure  that  the  wind  should  blow  upon 
thee.  But  yet  I must  venture  you  all  with  God,  though  it 
goeth  to  the  quick  to  leave  you.”  ^ 

The  ‘ hue  of  resolution  ’ is  there,  but  the  full  flood  of 
ecstatic  liberation  seems  never  to  have  poured  over  poor 
John  Bunyan’s  soul. 

These  examples  may  suffice  to  acquaint  us  in  a general 
way  -with  the  phenomenon  technically  called  ‘ Conver- 
sion.’ In  the  next  lecture  I shall  invite  you  to  study  its 
peculiarities  and  concomitants  in  some  detail. 

^ In  my  quotations  from  Runyan  I have  omitted  certain  intervening  poi>' 
tions  of  the  text. 


LECTURE  IX 


CONVERSION 

TO  be  converted,  to  be  regenerated,  to  receive  grace, 
to  experience  religion,  to  gain  an  assurance,  are  so 
many  phrases  which  denote  the  process,  gradual  or  sud- 
den, by  which  a self  hitherto  divided,  and  consciously 
wrong  inferior  and  unhappy,  becomes  unified  and  con- 
sciously right  superior  and  happy,  in  consequence  of  its 
firmer  hold  upon  religious  realities.  This  at  least  is  what, 
conversion  signifies  in  general  terms,  whether  or  not  we 
beheve  that  a direct  divine  operation  is  needed  to  bring 
such  a moral  change  about. 

Before  entering  upon  a minuter  study  of  the  process, 
let  me  enliven  our  understanding  of  the  definition  by  a 
concrete  example.  I choose  the  quaint  case  of  an  unlet- 
tered man,  Stephen  H.  Bradley,  whose  experience  is 
related  in  a scarce  American  pamphlet.^ 

I select  this  case  because  it  shows  how  in  these  inner 
alterations  one  may  find  one  unsuspected  depth  below 
another,  as  if  the  possibilities  of  character  lay  disposed 
in  a series  of  layers  or  shells,  of  whose  existence  we  have 
no  premonitory  knowledge. 

Bradley  thought  that  he  had  been  already  fully  con- 
verted at  the  age  of  fourteen. 

“ I thought  I saw  the  Saviour,  by  faith,  in  human  shape,  for 
about  one  second  in  the  room,  with  arms  extended,  appearing 

^ A sketch  of  the  life  of  Stephen  H.  Bradley,  from  the  age  of  five  to 
twenty-four  years,  including  his  remarkable  experience  of  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  on  the  second  evening  of  November,  1829.  Madison,  Con- 
necticut, 1830. 


190  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


to  say  to  me,  Come.  The  next  day  I rejoiced  with  trembling ; 
soon  after,  my  happiness  was  so  great  that  I said  that  I wanted 
to  die  ; this  world  had  no  place  in  my  affections,  as  I knew  of, 
and  every  day  appeared  as  solemn  to  me  as  the  Sabbath.  1 had 
an  ardent  desire  that  all  mankind  might  feel  as  I did ; I wanted 
to  have  them  all  love  God  supremely.  Previous  to  this  time 
I was  very  selfish  and  self-righteous ; but  now  I desired  the 
welfare  of  all  mankind,  and  could  with  a feeling  heart  forgive 
my  worst  enemies,  and  I felt  as  if  I should  be  willing  to  bear 
the  scoffs  and  sneers  of  any  person,  and  suffer  anything  for 
His  sake,  if  I could  be  the  means  in  the  hands  of  God,  of  the 
conversion  of  one  soul.” 

Nine  years  later,  in  1829,  Mr.  Bradley  heard  of  a revival  of 
religion  that  had  begun  in  his  neighborhood.  “ Many  of  the 
young  converts,”  he  says,  “ would  come  to  me  when  in  meeting 
and  ask  me  if  I had  religion,  and  my  reply  generally  was,  1 
hope  I have.  This  did  not  appear  to  satisfy  them  ; they  said 
they  Icnew  they  had  it.  I requested  them  to  pray  for  me, 
thinking  with  myself,  that  if  I had  not  got  religion  now,  after 
so  long  a time  professing  to  be  a Christian,  that  it  was  time  I 
had,  and  hoped  their  prayers  would  be  answered  in  my  behalf. 

“ One  Sabbath,  I went  to  hear  the  Methodist  at  the  Acad- 
emy. He  spoke  of  the  ushering  in  of  the  day  of  general 
judgment ; and  he  set  it  forth  in  such  a solemn  and  terrible 
manner  as  I never  heard  before.  The  scene  of  that  day  ap- 
peared to  be  taking  place,  and  so  awakened  were  all  the  powers 
of  my  mind  that,  like  Felix,  I trembled  involuntarily  on  the 
bench  where  I was  sitting,  though  I felt  nothing  at  heart.  The 
next  day  evening  I went  to  hear  him  again.  He  took  his  text 
from  Revelation : ‘ And  I saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand 
before  God.’  And  he  represented  the  terrors  of  that  day  in 
such  a manner  that  it  appeared  as  if  it  would  melt  the  heart 
of  stone.  When  he  finished  his  discourse,  an  old  gentleman 
turned  to  me  and  said,  ‘ This  is  what  I call  preaching.’  I 
thought  the  same ; but  my  feelings  were  still  unmoved  by  what 
he  said,  and  I did  not  enjoy  religion,  but  I believe  he  did. 

“ I will  now  relate  my  experience  of  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  which  took  place  on  the  same  night.  Had  any  person 


CONVERSION 


191 


told  me  previous  to  this  that  I could  have  experienced  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  manner  which  I did,  I could 
not  have  believed  it,  and  should  have  thought  the  person  de- 
luded that  told  me  so.  I went  directly  home  after  the  meet- 
ing, and  when  I got  home  I wondered  what  made  me  feel  so 
stupid.  I retired  to  rest  soon  after  I got  home,  and  felt  indif- 
ferent to  the  things  of  religion  until  I began  to  be  exercised  by 
the  Holy  Spirit,  which  began  in  about  five  minutes  after,  in  the 
following  manner : — 

“ At  first,  I began  to  feel  my  heart  beat  very  quick  all  on  a 
sudden,  which  made  me  at  first  think  that  perhaps  something 
is  going  to  ail  me,  though  I was  not  alarmed,  for  I felt  no  pain. 
My  heart  increased  in  its  beating,  which  soon  convinced  me 
that  it  was  the  Holy  Spirit  from  the  effect  it  had  on  me.  1 
began  to  feel  exceedingly  happy  and  humble,  and  such  a sense 
of  unworthiness  as  I never  felt  before.  I could  not  very  well 
help  speaking  out,  which  I did,  and  said.  Lord,  I do  not  deserve 
this  happiness,  or  words  to  that  effect,  while  there  was  a stream 
(resembling  air  in  feeling)  came  into  my  mouth  and  heart  in  a 
more  sensible  manner  than  that  of  drinking  anything,  which 
continued,  as  near  as  I could  judge,  five  minutes  or  more,  which 
appeared  to  be  the  cause  of  such  a palpitation  of  my  heart.  It 
took  complete  possession  of  my  soul,  and  I am  certain  that  I 
desired  the  Lord,  while  in  the  midst  of  it,  not  to  give  me  any 
more  happiness,  for  it  seemed  as  if  I could  not  contain  what  I 
had  got.  My  heart  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst,  but  it  did  not 
stop  until  I felt  as  if  I was  unutterably  full  of  the  love  and 
grace  of  God.  In  the  mean  time  while  thus  exercised,  a thought 
arose  in  my  mind,  what  can  it  mean  ? and  all  at  once,  as  if  to 
answer  it,  my  memory  became  exceedingly  clear,  and  it  ap- 
peared to  me  just  as  if  the  New  Testament  was  placed  open 
before  me,  eighth  chapter  of  Romans,  and  as  light  as  if  some 
candle  lighted  was  held  for  me  to  read  the  26th  and  27th  verses 
of  that  chapter,  and  I read  these  words : ‘ The  Spirit  helpeth 
our  infirmities  with  groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered.’  And 
all  the  time  that  my  heart  was  a-beating,  it  made  me  groan 
like  a person  in  distress,  which  was  not  very  easy  to  stop, 
though  I was  in  no  pain  at  all,  and  my  brother  being  in  bed  in 


192  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


another  room  came  and  opened  the  door,  and  asked  me  i£  I 
had  got  the  toothache.  I told  him  no,  and  that  he  might  get 
to  sleep.  I tried  to  stop.  I felt  unwilling  to  go  to  sleep  my- 
self, I was  so  happy,  fearing  I should  lose  it  — thinking  within 
myself 

‘ My  willing  soul  would  stay 
In  sucli  a frame  as  this.’ 

And  while  I lay  reflecting,  after  my  heart  stopped  beating, 
feeling  as  if  my  soul  was  full  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I thought  that 
perhaps  there  might  be  angels  hovering  round  my  bed.  I felt 
just  as  if  I wanted  to  converse  with  them,  and  finally  I spoke, 
saying,  ‘ O ye  affectionate  angels  ! how  is  it  that  ye  can  take 
so  much  interest  in  our  welfare,  and  we  take  so  little  interest 
in  our  own.’  After  this,  with  difficulty  I got  to  sleep ; and 
when  I awoke  in  the  morning  my  first  thoughts  were : What 
has  become  of  my  happiness  ? and,  feeling  a degree  of  it  in  my 
heart,  I asked  for  more,  which  was  given  to  me  as  quick  as 
thought.  I then  got  up  to  dress  myself,  and  found  to  my  sur- 
prise that  I could  but  just  stand.  It  appeared  to  me  as  if  it 
was  a little  heaven  upon  earth.  My  soul  felt  as  completely 
raised  above  the  fears  of  death  as  of  going  to  sleep ; and  like  a 
bird  in  a cage,  I had  a desire,  if  it  was  the  will  of  God,  to  get 
released  from  my  body  and  to  dwell  with  Christ,  though  willing 
to  live  to  do  good  to  others,  and  to  warn  sinners  to  repent.  I 
went  downstairs  feeling  as  solemn  as  if  I had  lost  all  my 
friends,  and  thinking  with  myself,  that  I would  not  let  my 
parents  know  it  until  I had  first  looked  into  the  Testament.  I 
went  directly  to  the  shelf  and  looked  into  it,  at  the  eighth  chap- 
ter of  Romans,  and  every  verse  seemed  to  almost  speak  and  to 
confirm  it  to  be  truly  the  Word  of  God,  and  as  if  my  feelings 
corresponded  with  the  meaning  of  the  word.  I then  told  my 
parents  of  it,  and  told  them  that  I thought  that  they  must  see 
that  when  I spoke,  that  it  was  not  my  own  voice,  for  it  appeared 
so  to  me.  My  speech  seemed  entirely  under  the  control  of  the 
Spirit  within  me  ; I do  not  mean  that  the  words  which  I spoke 
were  not  my  own,  for  they  were.  I thought  that  I was  influ- 
enced similar  to  the  Apostles  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  (with 
the  exception  of  having  power  to  give  it  to  others,  and  doing 


CONVERSION 


193 


i^hat  they  did).  After  breakfast  I went  round  to  converse 
with  my  neighbors  on  religion,  which  I could  not  have  been 
hired  to  have  done  before  this,  and  at  their  request  I prayed 
with  them,  though  I had  never  prayed  in  public  before. 

“ I now  feel  as  if  I had  discharged  my  duty  by  telling  the 
truth,  and  hope  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it  may  do  some  good  to 
all  who  shall  read  it.  He  has  fulfilled  his  promise  in  sending 
the  Holy  Spirit  down  into  our  hearts,  or  mine  at  least,  and  I 
now  defy  all  the  Deists  and  Atheists  in  the  world  to  shake  my 
faith  in  Christ.” 

So  much  for  Mr.  Bradley  and  his  conversion,  of  the 
effect  of  which  upon  his  later  hfe  we  gain  no  informa- 
tion. Now  for  a minuter  survey  of  the  constituent  ele- 
ments of  the  conversion  process. 

If  you  open  the  chapter  on  Association,  of  any  treatise 
on  Psychology,  you  will  read  that  a man’s  ideas,  aims, 
and  objects  form  diverse  internal  groups  and  systems, 
relatively  independent  of  one  another.  Each  ^ aim  ’ which 
he  foUows  awakens  a certain  specific  kind  of  interested 
exeitement,  and  gathers  a certain  group  of  ideas  together 
in  subordination  to  it  as  its  associates ; and  if  the  aims 
and  excitements  are  distinct  in  kind,  their  groups  of  ideas 
may  have  little  in  common.  When  one  group  is  present 
and  engrosses  the  interest,  all  the  ideas  connected  with 
other  groups  may  be  excluded  from  the  mental  field. 
The  President  of  the  United  States  when,  with  paddle, 
gun,  and  fishing-rod,  he  goes  camping  in  the  wilderness 
for  a vacation,  changes  his  system  of  ideas  from  top  to 
bottom.  The  presidential  anxieties  have  lapsed  into  the 
background  entirely  ; the  official  habits  are  replaced  by 
the  habits  of  a son  of  nature,  and  those  who  knew  the 
man  only  as  the  strenuous  magistrate  would  not  ‘ know  / 
him  for  the  same  person  ’ if  they  saw  him  as  the  camper  [ 

If  now  he  should  never  go  back,  and  never  again 


194  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


suffer  political  interests  to  gain  dominion  over  him,  he 
would  be  for  practical  intents  and  purposes  a perma- 
nently transformed  being.  Our  ordinary  alterations  of 
character,  as  we  pass  from  one  of  our  aims  to  another, 
are  not  commonly  called  transformations,  because  each 
of  them  is  so  rapidly  succeeded  by  another  in  the  re- 
verse direction  ; but  whenever  one  aim  grows  so  stable 
as  to  expel  definitively  its  previous  rivals  from  the  indi- 
vidual’s life,  we  tend  to  speak  of  the  phenomenon,  and 
perhaps  to  wonder  at  it,  as  a ‘ transformation.’ 

These  alternations  are  the  completest  of  the  ways  in 
which  a self  may  be  divided.  A less  complete  way  is  the 
simultaneous  coexistence  of  two  or  more  different  groups 
of  aims,  of  which  one  practically  holds  the  right  of  way 
and  instigates  activity,  whilst  the  others  are  only  pious 
wishes,  and  never  practically  come  to  anything.  Saint 
Augustine’s  aspirations  to  a purer  life,  in  our  last  lecture, 
were  for  a while  an  example.  Another  would  be  the 
President  in  his  full  pride  of  office,  wondering  whether  it 
were  not  all  vanity,  and  whether  the  life  of  a wood-chop- 
per were  not  the  wholesomer  destiny.  Such  fleeting  aspira- 
tions are  mere  velleitates,  whimsies.  They  exist  on  the 
remoter  outskirts  of  the  mind,  and  the  real  self  of  the 
man,  the  centre  of  his  energies,  is  occupied  with  an 
entirely  different  system.  As  life  goes  on,  there  is  a 
constant  change  of  our  interests,  and  a consequent 
change  of  place  in  our  systems  of  ideas,  from  more  cen- 
tral to  more  peripheral,  and  from  more  peripheral  to  more 
central  parts  of  consciousness.  I remember,  for  instance, 
that  one  evening  when  I was  a youth,  my  father  read 
aloud  from  a Boston  newspaper  that  part  of  Lord  Gif- 
ford’s will  which  founded  these  four  lectureships.  At 
that  time  I did  not  think  of  being  a teacher  of  philosophy . 
and  what  I listened  to  was  as  remote  from  my  own  life 


CONVERSION 


195 


as  if  it  related  to  the  planet  Mars.  Yet  here  I am,  with 
the  Gifford  system  part  and  parcel  of  my  very  self,  and 
all  my  energies,  for  the  time  being,  devoted  to  success- 
fully identifying  myself  with  it.  My  soul  stands  now 
planted  in  what  once  was  for  it  a practically  unreal  ob- 
ject, and  speaks  from  it  as  from  its  proper  habitat  and 
centre. 

When  I say  ‘ Soul,’  you  need  not  take  me  in  the 
ontological  sense  unless  you  prefer  to ; for  although 
ontological  language  is  instinctive  in  such  matters,  yet 
Buddhists  or  Humians  can  perfectly  well  describe  the 
facts  in  the  phenomenal  terms  which  are  their  favorites. 
For  them  the  soul  is  only  a succession  of  fields  of  con- 
sciousness : yet  there  is  found  in  each  field  a part,  or 
sub-field,  which  figures  as  focal  and  contains  the  excite- 
ment, and  from  which,  as  from  a centre,  the  aim  seems 
to  be  taken.  Talking  of  this  part,  we  involuntarily 
apply  words  of  perspective  to  distinguish  it  from  the  rest, 
words  like  ‘here,’  ‘this,’  ‘now,’  ‘mine,’  or  ‘me’;  and  we 
ascribe  to  the  other  parts  the  positions  ‘ there,’  ‘ then,’ 
‘ that,’  ‘ his  ’ or  ‘ thine,’  ‘ it,’  ‘ not  me.’  But  a ‘ here  ’ can 
change  to  a ‘ there,’  and  a ‘ there  ’ become  a ‘ here,’  and 
what  was  ‘ mine  ’ and  what  was  ‘ not  mine  ’ change  their 
places. 

What  brings  such  changes  about  is  the  way  in  which 
emotional  excitement  alters.  Things  hot  and  vital  to  us 
to-day  are  cold  to-morrow.  It  is  as  if  seen  from  the  hot 
parts  of  the  field  that  the  other  parts  appear  to  us,  and 
from  these  hot  parts  personal  desire  and  volition  make 
their  salhes.  They  are  in  short  the  centres  of  our  dy- 
namic energy,  whereas  the  cold  parts  leave  us  indiffer- 
ent and  passive  in  proportion  to  their  coldness. 

Whether  such  language  be  rigorously  exact  is  for  the 
present  of  no  importance.  It  is  exact  enough,  if  you 


196 


THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


recognize  from  your  own  experience  the  facts  which  I 
seek  to  designate  by  it. 

Now  there  may  be  great  oscillation  in  the  emotional 
interest,  and  the  hot  places  may  shift  before  one  almost 
as  rapidly  as  the  sparks  that  run  through  burnt-up  paper. 
Then  we  have  the  wavering  and  divided  self  we  heard  so 
much  of  in  the  previous  lecture.  Or  the  focus  of  excite= 
ment  and  heat,  the  point  of  view  from  which  the  aim  is 
taken,  may  come  to  lie  permanently  within  a certain  sys= 
tern  ; and  then,  if  the  change  be  a religious  one,  we  call 
it  a conversion,  especially  if  it  be  by  crisis,  or  sudden. 

Let  us  hereafter,  in  speaking  of  the  hot  place  in  a 
man’s  consciousness,  the  group  of  ideas  to  which  he 
devotes  himself,  and  from  which  he  works,  call  it  the 
habitual  centre  of  his  i^ersonal  energy.  It  makes  a great 
difference  to  a man  whether  one  set  of  his  ideas,  or  an- 
other, be  the  centre  of  his  energy ; and  it  makes  a great 
difference,  as  regards  any  set  of  ideas  which  he  may  pos- 
sess, whether  they  become  central  or  remain  peripheral  in 
him.  To  say  that  a man  is  ^ converted  ’ means,  in  these 
terms,  that  religious  ideas,  previously  peripheral  in  his  con- 
sciousness, now  take  a central  place,  and  that  rehgious 
aims  form  the  habitual  centre  of  his  energy. 

Now  if  you  ask  of  psychology  just  Aow;  the  excitement 
shifts  in  a man’s  mental  system,  and  why  aims  that  were 
peripheral  become  at  a certain  moment  central,  psychology 
has  to  reply  that  although  she  can  give  a general  de- 
scription of  what  happens,  she  is  unable  in  a given  case 
to  account  accurately  for  all  the  single  forces  at  work. 
Neither  an  outside  observer  nor  the  Subject  who  under- 
goes the  process  can  explain  fully  how  particular  expe- 
riences are  able  to  change  one’s  centre  of  energy  so 
decisively,  or  why  they  so  often  have  to  bide  their  hour 
to  do  so.  We  have  a thought,  or  we  perform  an  act, 


CONVERSION 


197 


repeatedly,  but  on  a certain  day  the  real  meaning  of  the 
thought  peals  through  us  for  the  first  time,  or  the  act 
has  suddenly  turned  into  a moral  impossihihty.  All  we 
know  is  that  there  are  dead  feelings,  dead  ideas,  and  cold 
beliefs,  and  there  are  hot  and  live  ones ; and  when  one 
grows  hot  and  alive  within  us,  everything  has  to  re-crystal- 
lize  about  it.  We  may  say  that  the  heat  and  liveliness 
mean  only  the  ‘ motor  efficacy,’  long  deferred  but  now 
operative,  of  the  idea;  but  such  talk  itself  is  only  cir- 
cumlocution, for  whence  the  sudden  motor  efficacy  ? 
And  our  explanations  then  get  so  vague  and  general 
that  one  realizes  all  the  more  the  intense  individuality 
of  the  whole  phenomenon. 

In  the  end  we  fall  back  on  the  hackneyed  symbolism  of 
a mechanical  equilibrium.  A mind  is  a system  of  ideas, 
each  with  the  excitement  it  arouses,  and  with  tendencies 
impulsive  and  inhibitive,  which  mutually  check  or  rein- 
force one  another.  The  collection  of  ideas  alters  by  sub- 
traction or  by  addition  in  the  course  of  experience,  and 
the  tendencies  alter  as  the  organism  gets  more  aged.  A 
mental  system  may  be  undermined  or  weakened  by  this 
interstitial  alteration  just  as  a building  is,  and  yet  for  a 
time  keep  upright  by  dead  habit.  But  a new  perception,  a 
sudden  emotional  shock,  or  an  occasion  which  lays  bare 
the  organic  alteration,  will  make  the  whole  fabric  fall 
together ; and  then  the  centre  of  gravity  sinks  into  an 
attitude  more  stable,  for  the  new  ideas  that  reach  the 
centre  in  the  rearrangement  seem  now  to  be  locked  there, 
and  the  new  structure  remains  permanent. 

Formed  associations  of  ideas  and  habits  are  usually 
factors  of  retardation  in  such  changes  of  equihbrium. 
New  information,  however  acquired,  plays  an  accelerating 
part  in  the  changes  ; and  the  slow  mutation  of  our  in- 
stincts and  propensities,  under  the  ^ unimaginable  touch 


198 


THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  time  ’ has  an  enormous  influence.  Moreover,  all  these 
influences  may  work  subconsciously  or  half  unconsciously.^ 
And  when  you  get  a Subject  in  whom  the  subconscious 
life  — of  which  I must  speak  more  fully  soon  — is  largely 
developed,  and  in  whom  motives  habitually  ripen  in  si- 
lence, you  get  a case  of  which  you  can  never  give  a full 
account,  and  in  which,  both  to  the  Subject  and  the 
onlookers,  there  may  appear  an  element  of  marvel.  Emo' 
tional  occasions,  especially  violent  ones,  are  extremely 
potent  in  precipitating  mental  rearrangements.  The 
sudden  and  explosive  ways  in  which  love,  jealousy,  guilt, 
fear,  remorse,  or  anger  can  seize  upon  one  are  known  to 
everybody.^  Hope,  happiness,  security,  resolve,  emotions 
characteristic  of  conversion,  can  be  equally  explosive. 
And  emotions  that  come  in  this  explosive  way  seldom 
leave  things  as  they  found  them. 

In  his  recent  work  on  the  Psychology  of  Religion, 
Professor  Starbuck  of  California  has  shown  by  a statis- 

1 Jouffroy  is  an  example  : “ Down  this  slope  it  was  that  my  intelligence 
had  glided,  and  little  by  little  it  had  got  far  from  its  first  faith.  But  this 
melancholy  revolution  had  not  taken  place  in  the  broad  daylight  of  my  con- 
sciousness ; too  many  scruples,  too  many  guides  and  sacred  affections  had 
made  it  dreadful  to  me,  so  that  I was  far  from  avowing  to  myself  the  pro- 
gress it  had  made.  It  had  gone  on  in  silence,  by  an  involuntary  elabora- 
tion of  which  I was  not  the  accomplice  ; and  although  I had  in  reality  long 
ceased  to  be  a Christian,  yet,  in  the  innocence  of  my  intention,  I should  have 
shuddered  to  suspect  it,  and  thought  it  calumny  had  I been  accused  of  such 
a falling  away.”  Then  follows  Jouffroy’s  account  of  his  counter-conversion, 
quoted  above  on  p.  176. 

2 One  hardly  needs  examples  ; but  for  love,  see  p.  179,  note  ; for  fear, 
p.  162  ; for  remorse,  see  Othello  after  the  murder  ; for  anger,  see  Lear  after 
Cordelia’s  first  speech  to  him  ; for  resolve,  see  p.  178  (J.  Foster  case).  Here 
is  a pathological  case  in  which  guilt  was  the  feeling  that  suddenly  exploded: 
“ One  night  I was  seized  on  entering  bed  with  a rigor,  such  as  Swedenborg 
describes  as  coming  over  him  with  a sense  of  holiness,  but  over  me  with  a 
sense  of  guilt.  During  that  whole  night  I lay  under  the  influence  of  the  rigor, 
and  from  its  inception  I felt  that  I was  under  the  curse  of  God.  I have 
never  done  one  act  of  duty  in  my  life  — sins  against  God  and  man,  begin- 
ning as  far  as  my  memory  goes  back  — a wildcat  in  human  shape.” 


CONVERSION 


199 


tical  inquiry  how  closely  parallel  in  its  manifestations 
the  ordinary  ‘ conversion  ’ which  occurs  in  young  people 
brought  up  in  evangelical  circles  is  to  that  growth  into  a 
larger  spiritual  life  which  is  a normal  phase  of  adolescence 
in  every  class  of  human  beingSc  The  age  is  the  same, 
falling  usually  between  fourteen  and  seventeen.  The 
symptoms  are  the  same,  — sense  of  incompleteness  and 
imperfection ; brooding,  depression,  morbid  introspection, 
and  sense  of  sin  ; anxiety  about  the  hereafter  ; distress 
over  doubts,  and  the  like.  And  the  residt  is  the  same, 
— a happy  relief  and  objectivity,  as  the  confidence  in  self 
gets  greater  through  the  adjustment  of  the  faculties  to 
the  wider  outlook.  In  spontaneous  rehgious  awakening, 
apart  from  revivalistic  examples,  and  in  the  ordinary  storm 
and  stress  and  moulting-time  of  adolescence,  we  also  may 
meet  with  mystical  experiences,  astonishing  the  subjects 
by  their  suddenness,  just  as  in  revivalistic  conversion. 
The  analogy,  in  fact,  is  complete  ; and  Starbuck’s  con- 
clusion as  to  these  ordinary  youthful  conversions  would 
seem  to  be  the  only  sound  one  : Conversion  is  in  its 
essence  a normal  adolescent  phenomenon,  incidental  to  , 
the  passage  from  the  child’s  small  universe  to  the  wider 
intellectual  and  spiritual  life  of  maturity. 

“ Theology,”  says  Dr.  Starbuck,  “ takes  the  adolescent 
tendencies  and  builds  upon  them  ; it  sees  that  the  essen- 
tial thing  in  adolescent  growth  is  bringing  the  person  out 
of  childhood  into  the  new  life  of  maturity  and  personal 
insight.  It  accordingly  brings  those  means  to  bear  which 
will  intensify  the  normal  tendencies.  It  shortens  up  the 
period  of  dimation  of  storm  and  stress.”  The  conversion 
phenomena  of  ‘ conviction  of  sin  ’ last,  by  this  investiga- 
tor’s statistics,  about  one  fifth  as  long  as  the  periods 
of  adolescent  storm  and  stress  phenomena  of  which  he 
also  got  statistics,  but  they  are  very  much  more  intense. 


200  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Bodily  accompaniments,  loss  of  sleep  and  appetite,  foi 
example,  are  much  more  frequent  in  them.  “ The  essen* 
tial  distinction  appears  to  be  that  conversion  intensifies 
but  shortens  the  period  by  bringing  the  person  to  a 
definite  crisis.”  ^ 

The  conversions  which  Dr.  Starbuck  here  has  in  mind 
are  of  course  mainly  those  of  very  commonplace  persons, 
kept  true  to  a pre-appointed  type  by  instruction,  appeal, 
and  example.  The  particular  form  which  they  affect  is 
the  result  of  suggestion  and  imitation.^  If  they  went 
through  their  growth-crisis  in  other  faiths  and  other 
countries,  although  the  essence  of  the  change  would  be 
the  same  (since  it  is  one  in  the  main  so  inevitable),  its 
accidents  would  be  different.  In  Cathohc  lands,  for  ex- 
ample, and  in  our  own  Episcopalian  sects,  no  such  anxiety 
and  conviction  of  sin  is  nsual  as  in  sects  that  encourage 
revivals.  The  sacraments  being  more  relied  on  in  these 
more  strictly  ecclesiastical  bodies,  the  individual’s  per- 
sonal acceptance  of  salvation  needs  less  to  be  accentuated 
and  led  up  to. 

1 E.  D.  Starbuck  : The  Psychology  of  Religion,  pp.  224,  262. 

2 No  one  understands  this  better  than  Jonathan  Edwards  understood  if 
already.  Conversion  narratives  of  the  more  commonplace  sort  must  alwayp 
be  taken  with  the  allowances  which  he  suggests  : “ A rule  received  and  es- 
tablished by  common  consent  has  a very  great,  though  to  many  persons  an 
insensible  influence  in  forming  their  notions  of  the  process  of  their  own 
experience.  I know  very  well  how  they  proceed  as  to  this  matter,  for  I 
have  had  frequent  opportunities  of  observing  their  conduct.  Very  often 
their  experience  at  first  appears  like  a confused  chaos,  but  then  those  parts 
are  selected  which  bear  the  nearest  resemblance  to  such  particular  steps  as 
are  insisted  on  ; and  these  are  dwelt  upon  in  their  thoughts,  and  spoken  of 
from  time  to  time,  till  they  grow  more  and  more  conspicuous  in  their  view, 
and  other  parts  which  are  neglected  grow  more  and  more  obscure.  Thus 
what  they  have  experienced  is  insensibly  strained,  so  as  to  bring  it  to  an 
exact  conformity  to  the  scheme  already  established  in  their  minds.  And  it 
becomes  natural  also  for  ministers,  who  have  to  deal  with  those  who  insist 
upon  distinctness  and  clearness  of  method,  to  do  so  too.”  Treatise  on 
Religious  Affections. 


CONVERSION 


201 


But  every  imitative  phenomenon  must  once  have  had 
its  original,  and  I propose  that  for  the  future  we  keep  as 
close  as  may  be  to  the  more  first-hand  and  original  forms 
of  experience.  These  are  more  likely  to  be  found  iij 
sporadic  adult  cases. 

Professor  Leuba,  in  a valuable  article  on  the  psycho’ 
logy  of  conversion,^  subordinates  the  theological  aspect 
of  the  religious  life  almost  entirely  to  its  moral  aspect. 
The  religious  sense  he  defines  as  “ the  feehng  of  un- 
wholeness, of  moral  imperfection,  of  sin,  to  use  the  tech- 
nical word,  accompanied  by  the  yearning  after  the  peace 
of  unity.”  “ The  word  ‘ religion,’  ” he  says,  “ is  getting 
more  and  more  to  signify  the  conglomei’ate  of  desires  and 
emotions  springing  from  the  sense  of  sin  and  its  release  ” ; 
and  he  gives  a large  number  of  examples,  in  which  the 
sin  ranges  from  drunkenness  to  spiritual  pride,  to  show 
that  the  sense  of  it  may  beset  one  and  crave  relief  as 
urgently  as  does  the  anguish  of  the  sickened  flesh  or  any 
form  of  physical  misery. 

Undoubtedly  this  conception  covers  an  immense  num- 
ber of  cases.  A good  one  to  use  as  an  example  is  that 
of  Mr.  S.  H.  Hadley,  who  after  his  conversion  became 
an  active  and  useful  rescuer  of  drunkards  in  New  York. 
His  experience  runs  as  follows  : — 

“ One  Tuesday  evening  I sat  in  a saloon  in  Harlem,  a home- 
less, friendless,  dying  drunkard.  I had  pawned  or  sold  every- 
thing that  would  bring  a drink.  I could  not  sleep  unless  I was 
dead  drunk.  I had  not  eaten  for  days,  and  for  four  nights  pre- 
ceding I had  suffered  with  delirium  tremens,  or  the  horrors, 
from  midnight  till  morning.  I had  often  said,  ‘ I will  never  be 
a tramp.  I will  never  be  cornered,  for  when  that  time  comes, 
if  ever  it  comes,  I will  find  a home  in  the  bottom  of  the  river.’ 
But  the  Lord  so  ordered  it  that  when  that  time  did  come  I was 

^ Studies  in  the  Psychology  of  Religious  Phenomena,  American  Journal 
of  Psychology,  vii.  309  (1896). 


202  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


not  able  to  walk  one  quarter  of  the  way  to  the  river.  As  I sat 
there  thinking,  I seemed  to  feel  some  great  and  mighty  pre- 
sence. I did  not  know  then  what  it  was.  I did  learn  after- 
wards that  it  was  Jesus,  the  sinner’s  friend.  I walked  up  to 
the  bar  and  pounded  it  with  my  fist  till  I made  the  glasses 
rattle.  Those  who  stood  by  drinking  looked  on  with  scornful 
curiosity.  I said  I would  never  take  another  drink,  if  I died 
on  the  street,  and  really  I felt  as  though  that  would  happen 
before  morning.  Something  said,  ‘ If  you  want  to  keep  this 
promise,  go  and  have  yourself  locked  up.’  I went  to  the  near- 
est station-house  and  had  myself  locked  up. 

“ I was  placed  in  a narrow  cell,  and  it  seemed  as  though  all 
the  demons  that  could  find  room  came  in  that  place  with  me. 
This  was  not  all  the  company  I had,  either.  No,  praise  the 
Lord  ; that  dear  Spirit  that  came  to  me  in  the  saloon  was 
present,  and  said,  Pray.  I did  pray,  and  though  I did  not  feel 
any  great  help,  I kept  on  praying.  As  soon  as  I was  able  to 
leave  my  cell  I was  taken  to  the  police  court  and  remanded 
back  to  the  cell.  I was  finally  released,  and  found  my  way  to 
my  brother’s  house,  where  every  care  was  given  me.  While 
lying  in  bed  the  admonishing  Spirit  never  left  me,  and  when  I 
arose  the  following  Sabbath  morning  I felt  that  day  would 
decide  my  fate,  and  toward  evening  it  came  into  my  head  to  go 
to  Jerry  M’Auley’s  Mission,  I went.  The  house  was  packed, 
and  with  great  difiiculty  I made  my  way  to  the  space  near  the 
platform.  There  I saw  the  apostle  to  the  drunkard  and  the 
outcast — that  man  of  God,  Jerry  M’Auley.  He  rose,  and 
amid  deep  silence  told  his  experience.  There  was  a sincerity 
about  this  man  that  carried  conviction  with  it,  and  I found  my- 
self saying,  ‘ I wonder  if  God  can  save  meV  I listened  to  the 
testimony  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  persons,  every  one  of  whom 
had  been  saved  from  rum,  and  I made  up  my  mind  that  I would 
be  saved  or  die  right  there.  When  the  invitation  was  given,  I 
knelt  down  with  a crowd  of  drunkards.  Jerry  made  the  first 
prayer.  Then  Mrs.  M’Auley  prayed  fervently  for  us.  Oh, 
what  a conflict  was  going  on  for  my  poor  soul ! A blessed 
whisper  said,  ‘ Come  ’ ; the  devil  said,  ‘ Be  careful.’  I halted 
but  a moment,  and  then,  with  a breaking  heart,  I said,  ‘ Dean 


CONVERSION 


203 


Jesus,  can  you  help  me  ? ’ Never  with  mortal  tongue  can  1 
describe  that  moment.  Although  up  to  that  moment  my  soul 
had  been  filled  with  indescribable  gloom,  I felt  the  glorious 
brightness  of  the  noonday  sun  shine  into  my  heart.  I felt  I was 
a free  man.  Oh,  the  precious  feeling  of  safety,  of  freedom,  of 
resting  on  Jesus ! I felt  that  Christ  with  all  his  brightness  and 
power  had  come  into  my  life  ; that,  indeed,  old  things  had 
passed  away  and  all  things  had  become  new. 

“ From  that  moment  till  now  I have  never  wanted  a drink  of 
whiskey,  and  I have  never  seen  money  enough  to  make  me  take 
one.  I promised  God  that  night  that  if  he  would  take  away 
the  appetite  for  strong  drink,  I would  work  for  him  all  my  life. 
iHe  has  done  his  part,  and  I have  been  trying  to  do  mine.”  ^ 

Dr.  Leuba  rightly  remarks  that  there  is  little  doctrinal 
theology  in  such  an  experience,  which  starts  with  the 
absolute  need  of  a higher  helper,  and  ends  with  the  sense 
ithat  he  has  helped  us.  He  gives  other  cases  of  drunk- 
ards' conversions  which  are  purely  ethical,  containing, 
as  recorded,  no  theological  beliefs  whatever.  John  B. 
Gough’s  case,  for  instance,  is  practically,  says  Dr.  Leuba, 
the  conversion  of  an  atheist — neither  God  nor  Jesus 
being  mentioned.^  But  in  spite  of  the  importance  of 
this  type  of  regeneration,  with  little  or  no  intellectual 
readjustment,  this  writer  surely  makes  it  too  exclusive. 
It  corresponds  to  the  subjectively  centred  form  of  morbid 
melancholy,  of  which  Bunyan  and  Alline  were  examples. 
But  we  saw  in  our  seventh  lecture  that  there  are  objective 
forms  of  melancholy  also,  in  which  the  lack  of  rational 

^ I have  abridged  Mr.  Hadley’s  account.  For  other  conversions  of  drunk- 
iards,  see  his  pamphlet,  Rescue  Mission  Work,  published  at  the  Old  Jerry 
M’Auley  Water  Street  Mission,  New  York  city.  A striking  collection  of 
I eases  also  appears  in  the  appendix  to  Professor  Leuba’s  article. 

* A restaurant  waiter  served  provisionally  as  Gough’s  ‘ Saviour.’  General 
I Booth,  the  founder  of  the  Salvation  Army,  considers  that  the  first  vital 
' step  in  saving  outcasts  consists  in  making  them  feel  that  some  decent  human 
being  cares  enough  for  them  to  take  an  interest  in  the  question  whether 
I they  are  to  rise  or  sink. 


204  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


meaning  of  the  universe,  and  of  life  anyhow,  is  the  burde* 
that  weighs  upon  one  — you  remember  Tolstoy’s  cased 
So  there  are  distinct  elements  in  conversion,  and  their 
relations  to  individual  hves  deserve  to  be  discriminated^ 

Some  persons,  for  instance,  never  are,  and  possibly 
never  under  any  circumstances  could  be,  converted. 
Religious  ideas  cannot  become  the  centre  of  their  spirit- 
ual energy.  They  may  be  excellent  persons,  servants  of 
God  in  practical  ways,  but  they  are  not  children  of  his 
kingdom.  They  are  either  incapable  of  imagining  the 
invisible  ; or  else,  in  the  language  of  devotion,  they  are 
life-long  subjects  of  ‘ barrenness  ’ and  ‘ dryness.’  Such 
inaptitude  for  religious  faith  may  in  some  cases  be  intel- 
lectual in  its  origin.  Their  religious  faculties  may  be 
checked  in  their  natural  tendency  to  expand,  by  beliefs 
about  the  world  that  are  inhibitive,  the  pessimistic  and 
materialistic  beliefs,  for  example,  within  which  so  many 
good  souls,  who  in  former  times  would  have  freely 
indulged  their  religious  propensities,  find  themselves 
nowadays,  as  it  were,  frozen  ; or  the  agnostic  vetoes 
upon  faith  as  something  weak  and  shameful,  under  which 
so  many  of  us  to-day  lie  cowering,  afraid  to  use  our 
instincts.  In  many  persons  such  inhibitions  are  never 
overcome.  To  the  end  of  their  days  they  refuse  to 
believe,  their  personal  energy  never  gets  to  its  religious 
centre,  and  the  latter  remains  inactive  in  perpetuity. 

In  other  persons  the  trouble  is  profounder.  There  are 
men  ansesthetic  on  the  religious  side,  deficient  in  that 

1 The  crisis  of  apathetic  melancholy  — no  use  in  life  — into  which  J.  S. 
Mill  records  that  he  fell,  and  from  which  he  emerged  by  the  reading  of 
Marmontel’s  Memoirs  (Heaven  save  the  mark  !)  and  Wordsworth’s  poetrj^, 
is  another  intellectual  and  general  metaphysical  case.  See  Mill’s  Autobio- 
graphy, New  York,  1873,  pp.  141,  148. 

2 Starbuck,  in  addition  to  ‘ escape  from  sin,’  discriminates  ‘ spiritual 
illumination  ’ as  a distinct  type  of  conversion  experience.  Psychology  of 
Religion,  p.  85. 


CONVERSION 


205 


category  of  sensibility.  Just  as  a bloodless  organism  can 
never,  in  spite  of  all  its  goodwill,  attain  to  the  reckless 
‘ animal  spirits  ’ enjoyed  by  those  of  sanguine  tempera- 
ment ; so  the  nature  which  is  spiritually  barren  may 
admire  and  envy  faith  in  others,  but  can  never  compass 
the  enthusiasm  and  peace  which  those  who  are  tempera^ 
mentally  qualified  for  faith  enjoy.  All  this  may,  however, 
turn  out  eventually  to  have  been  a matter  of  temporary 
inhibition.  Even  late  in  life  some  thaw,  some  release  may 
take  place,  some  bolt  be  shot  back  in  the  barrenest 
breast,  and  the  man’s  hard  heart  may  soften  and  break 
into  religious  feeling.  Such  cases  more  than  any  others 
suggest  the  idea  that  sudden  conversion  is  by  miracle. 
So  long  as  they  exist,  we  must  not  imagine  ourselves  to 
deal  with  irretrievably  fixed  classes. 

Now  there  are  two  forms  of  mental  occurrence  in 
human  beings,  which  lead  to  a striking  difference  in  the 
conversion  process,  a difference  to  which  Professor  Star- 
buck  has  called  attention.  You  know  how  it  is  when 
you  try  to  recollect  a forgotten  name.  Usually  you  help 
the  recall  by  working  for  it,  by  mentally  runnmg  over 
the  places,  persons,  and  things  with  which  the  word  was 
connected.  But  sometimes  this  effort  fails : you  feel  then 
as  if  the  harder  you  tried  the  less  hope  there  would  be, 
as  though  the  name  were  jammed,  and  pressure  in  its 
direction  only  kept  it  all  the  more  from  rising.  And 
then  the  opposite  expedient  often  succeeds.  Give  up  the 
effort  entirely ; think  of  something  altogether  different, 
and  in  half  an  hour  the  lost  name  comes  saunterina:  into 
your  mind,  as  Emerson  says,  as  carelessly  as  if  it  had 
never  been  invited.  Some  hidden  process  was  started  in 
you  by  the  effort,  which  went  on  after  the  effort  ceased, 
and  made  the  result  come  as  if  it  came  spontaneously. 


206 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIHJOCS  EXPERIENCE 


A certain  music  teacher,  says  Dr.  Starbuck,  says  to  hei 
pupils  after  the  thing  to  be  done  has  been  clearly  pointed 
out,  and  unsuccessfully  attempted : “ Stop  trying;  and  it 
will  do  itself  ! ” ' 

There  is  thus  a conscious  and  voluntary  way  and  an 
involuntary  and  unconscious  way  in  which  mental  results 
may  get  accomplished ; and  we  find  both  ways  exempli- 
fied in  the  history  of  conversion,  giving  us  two  types, 
which  Starbuck  calls  the  volitional  tyjie  and  the  type  hy 
self-surrender  respectively. 

In  the  vohtional  type  the  regenerative  change  is  usu- 
ally gradual,  and  consists  in  the  building  up,  piece  by 
piece,  of  a new  set  of  moral  and  spiritual  habits.  But 
there  are  always  critical  points  here  at  which  the  move- 
ment forward  seems  much  more  rapid.  This  psychologi- 
cal fact  is  abundantly  illustrated  by  Dr.  Starbuck.  Our 
education  in  any  practical  accomphshment  proceeds  ap- 
parently by  jerks  and  starts,  just  as  the  growth  of  our 
physical  bodies  does. 

“All  athlete  . . . sometimes  awakens  suddenly  to  an  under- 
standing of  the  fine  points  of  the  game  and  to  a real  enjoyment 
of  it,  just  as  the  convert  awakens  to  an  appreciation  of  religion. 
If  he  keeps  on  engaging  in  the  sport,  there  may  come  a day 
when  all  at  once  the  game  plays  itself  through  him  — when  he'l 
loses  himself  in  some  great  contest.  In  the  same  way,  a musi- 
cian may  suddenly  reach  a point  at  which  pleasure  in  the  tech- 
nique of  the  art  entirely  falls  away,  and  in  some  moment  of 
inspiration  he  becomes  the  instrument  through  which  music 
flows.  The  writer  has  chanced  to  hear  two  different  married 
persons,  both  of  whose  wedded  lives  had  been  beautiful  from^ 
the  beginning,  relate  that  not  until  a year  or  more  after  mar-j 
riage  did  they  awake  to  the  full  blessedness  of  married  life. 
So  it  is  with  the  religious  experience  of  these  persons  we  are^; 
studying.”  ^ j 

^ Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  117. 

* Psychology  of  Religion,  p.  385.  Compare,  also,  pp.  137-144  and  262.  ' 


CONVERSION 


207 


We  shall  erelong  hear  still  more  remarkable  illustra« 
tions  of  subconsciously  maturing  processes  eventuating  in 
results  of  which  we  suddenly  grow  conscious.  Sir  Wih 
ham  Hamilton  and  Professor  Laycock  of  Edinburgh  were 
among  the  first  to  call  attention  to  this  class  of  effects ; 
but  Dr.  Carpenter  first,  unless  I am  mistaken,  introduced 
the  term  ‘ unconscious  cerebration,’  which  has  since  then 
been  a popular  phrase  of  explanation.  The  facts  are  now 
known  to  us  far  more  extensively  than  he  could  know 
them,  and  the  adjective  ‘ unconscious,’  being  for  many 
of  them  almost  certainly  a misnomer,  is  better  replaced 
by  the  vaguer  term  ‘ subconscious  ’ or  ‘ subliminal.’ 

Of  the  volitional  type  of  conversion  it  would  be  easy 
to  give  examples,^  but  they  are  as  a rule  less  interesting 

' For  instance,  C.  G.  Finney  italicizes  the  volitional  element  : “Just  at 
this  point  the  whole  question  of  Gospel  salvation  opened  to  my  mind  in  a 
manner  most  marvelous  to  me  at  the  time.  I think  I then  saw,  as  clearly 
as  I ever  have  in  my  life,  the  reality  and  fullness  of  the  atonement  of  Christ. 
Gospel  salvation  seemed  to  me  to  he  an  offer  of  something  to  be  accepted, 
and  all  that  was  necessary  on  my  part  was  to  get  my  owu  consent  to  give  up 
my  sins  and  accept  Christ.  After  this  distinct  revelation  had  stood  for  some 
little  time  before  my  mind,  the  question  seemed  to  be  put,  ‘ Will  you  accept 
it  now,  to-day  ? ’ I replied,  ‘ Yes  ; I will  accept  it  to-day,  or  I will  die  in  the 
\attempt ! ’ ” He  then  went  into  the  woods,  where  he  de.scribes  his  struggles. 
He  could  not  pray,  his  heart  was  hardened  in  its  pride.  “ I then  reproached 
myself  for  having  promised  to  give  my  heart  to  God  before  I left  the 
woods.  When  I came  to  try,  I found  I could  not.  . . . My  inward  soul 
hung  back,  and  there  was  no  going  out  of  my  heart  to  God.  The  thought 
was  pressing  me,  of  the  rashness  of  my  promise  that  I would  give  my  heart 
to  God  that  day,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  that  was 
binding  on  my  soul  ; and  yet  I was  going  to  break  my  vow.  A great  sinking 
and  discouragement  came  over  me,  and  I felt  almost  too  weak  to  stand  upon 
my  knees.  Just  at  this  moment  I again  thought  I heard  some  one  ap- 
proach me,  and  I opened  my  eyes  to  see  whether  it  were  so.  But  right  there 
the  revelation  of  my  pride  of  heart,  as  the  great  difficulty  that  stood  in  the 
way,  was  distinctly  shown  to  me.  An  overwhelming  sense  of  my  wicked- 
ness in  being  ashamed  to  have  a human  being  see  me  on  my  knees  before 
God  took  such  powerful  possession  of  me,  that  I cried  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
and  exclaimed  that  I would  not  leave  that  place  if  all  the  men  on  earth  and  all 
I the  devils  in  hell  surrounded  me.  ‘ What ! ’ I said,  ‘ such  a degraded  sinnei 


aO«  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


than  those  of  the  self-surrender  type,  in  which  the  sul> 
conscious  effects  are  more  abundant  and  often  startHng. 
I will  therefore  hm’ry  to  the  latter,  the  more  so  because 
the  difference  between  the  two  types  is  after  all  not  radi- 
cal. Even  in  the  most  voluntarily  built-up  sort  of  regen- 
eration there  are  passages  of  partial  self-surrender  inter- 
posed ; and  in  the  great  majority  of  all  cases,  when  the 
will  has  done  its  uttermost  towards  bringing  one  close  to 
the  complete  unification  aspired  after,  it  seems  that  the 
very  last  step  must  be  left  to  other  forces  and  performed 
without  the  help  of  its  activity.  In  other  words,  self- 
surrender becomes  then  indispensable.  “ The  personal 
will,”  says  Dr.  Starbuck,  must  be  given  up.  In  many 
cases  relief  persistently  refuses  to  come  until  the  person 
ceases  to  resist,  or  to  make  an  effort  in  the  direction  he 
desires  to  go.” 

“ I had  said  I would  not  give  up  ; but  when  my  will  was 
broken,  it  was  all  over,”  writes  one  of  Starhuck’s  correspond- 
ents. — Another  says  : “ I simply  said : ‘ Lord,  I have  done  al] 
I can  ; I leave  the  whole  matter  with  Thee  ; ’ and  immediatelj 
there  came  to  me  a great  peace.”  — Another  : “ All  at  once  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I might  be  saved,  too,  if  I would  stop  try- 
ing to  do  it  all  myself,  and  follow  Jesus  : somehow  I lost  my 
load.”  — Another : “ I finally  ceased  to  resist,  and  gave  myself 
up,  though  it  was  a hard  struggle.  Gradually  the  feeling  came 
over  me  that  I had  done  my  part,  and  God  was  willing  to  do 
his.”  ^ — “ Lord,  Thy  will  be  done  ; damn  or  save  ! ” cries  John 
Nelson,^  exhausted  with  the  anxious  struggle  to  escape  damna- 
tion ; and  at  that  moment  his  soul  was  filled  with  peace. 

as  I am,  on  my  knees  confessing  my  sins  to  the  great  and  holy  God;  and 
ashamed  to  have  any  human  being,  and  a sinner  like  myself,  find  me  on  my 
knees  endeavoring  to  make  my  peace  with  my  offended  God  ! ’ The  sin 
appeared  awftd,  infinite.  It  broke  me  down  before  the  Lord.”  Memoirs, 
pp.  14-16,  abridged. 

1 Starbuck  : Op.  cit.,  pp.  91,  114. 

* Extracts  from  the  Journal  of  Mr.  John  Nelson,  London,  no  date,  p.  24 


I 


CONVERSION 


209 


Dr.  Starbuck  gives  an  interesting,  and  it  seems  to  me 
1 a true,  account  — so  far  as  conceptions  so  schematic  can 
claim  truth  at  all  — of  the  reasons  why  self-surrender  at 
the  last  moment  should  be  so  indispensable.  To  begin 
with,  there  are  two  things  in  the  mind  of  the  candidate 
i for  conversion  : first,  the  present  incompleteness  or  wrong- 
I ness,  the  ^ sin  ’ which  he  is  eager  to  escape  from  ; and, 
[second,  the  positive  ideal  which  he  longs  to  compass, 
j Now  with  most  of  us  the  sense  of  onr  present  wrong- 
j ness  is  a far  more  distinct  piece  of  our  consciousness  than 
is  the  imagination  of  any  positive  ideal  we  can  aim  at. 
In  a majority  of  cases,  indeed,  the  ‘ sin  ’ almost  ex- 
clusively engrosses  the  attention,  so  that  conversion  is 
! “ a process  of  struggling  away  from  sin  rather  than 
! of  strivmg  toioards  righteousness.”  ^ A man’s  conscious 
: wit  and  will,  so  far  as  they  strain  towards  the  ideal,  are 
aiming  at  something'  only  dimly  and  inaccurately  ima- 
gined. Yet  all  the  while  the  forces  of  mere  organic  ripen- 
ing within  him  are  going  on  towards  their  own  prefigured 
result,  and  his  conscious  strainings  are  letting  loose  sub- 
conscious allies  behind  the  scenes,  which  in  their  way 
work  towards  rearrangement;  and  the  rearrangement  to- 
wards which  all  these  deeper  forces  tend  is  pretty  surely 
definite,  and  definitely  different  from  what  he  consciously 
conceives  and  determines.  It  may  consequently  be  ac- 
tually interfered  with  [jammed,  as  it  were,  hke  the  lost 
word  when  we  seek  too  energetically  to  recall  it),  by  his 
voluntary  efforts  slanting  from  the  true  direction. 

Starbuck  seems  to  put  his  finger  on  the  root  of  the 
matter  when  he  says  that  to  exercise  the  personal  will  is 
still  to  five  in  the  region  where  the  imperfect  self  is 
the  thing  most  emphasized.  Where,  on  the  contrary, 
the  subconscious  forces  take  the  lead,  it  is  more  probably 

1 STAaEtBCCK,  p.  64. 


210  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  better  self  in  posse  which  directs  the  operation.  In* 
stead  of  being  clumsily  and  vaguely  aimed  at  from  with* 
out,  it  is  then  itself  the  organizing  centre.  What  then 
must  the  person  do  ? “ He  must  relax,”  says  Dr.  Star- 

buck)  — ‘‘  that  is,  he  must  fall  back  on  the  larger  Power 
that  makes  for  righteousness,  which  has  been  welling  up 
in  his  own  being,  and  let  it  finish  in  its  own  way  the 
work  it  has  begun.  . . . The  act  of  yielding,  in  this 
point  of  view,  is  giving  one’s  self  over  to  the  new  life, 
making  it  the  centre  of  a new  personality,  and  living, 
from  within,  the  truth  of  it  which  had  before  been  viewed 
objectively.”  ' 

‘‘  Man’s  extremity  is  God’s  opportunity  ” is  the  theo- 
logical way  of  putting  this  fact  of  the  need  of  self-sur- 
render ; whilst  the  physiological  way  of  stating  it  would 
be,  ‘‘  Let  one  do  all  in  one’s  power,  and  one’s  nervous 
system  will  do  the  rest.”  Both  statements  acknowledge 
the  same  fact.^ 

To  state  it  in  terms  of  our  own  symbolism : When  the 
new  centre  of  personal  energy  has  been  subconsciously 
incubated  so  long  as  to  be  just  ready  to  open  into  flower, 
‘ hands  off  ’ is  the  only  word  for  us,  it  must  burst  forth 
unaided ! 

W e have  used  the  vague  and  abstract  language  of  psy- 
chology. But  since,  in  any  terms,  the  crisis  described 
is  the  throwing  of  our  conscious  selves  upon  the  mercy 
of  powers  which,  whatever  they  may  be,  are  more  ideal 
than  we  are  actually,  and  make  for  our  redemption,  you 
see  why  self-surrender  has  been  and  always  must  be  re- 
garded as  the  vital  turning-point  of  the  religious  life, 
so  far  as  the  religious  life  is  spiritual  and  no  affair  of 
outer  works  and  ritual  and  sacraments.  One  may  say 
that  the  whole  development  of  Christianity  in  inwardness 
' Starbuck,  p.  115.  ^ Starbuck,  p.  113. 


CONVERSION 


211 


has  consisted  in  little  more  than  the  greater  and  greater 
emphasis  attached  to  this  crisis  of  self -surrender.  From 
Catholicism  to  Lutheranism,  and  then  to  Calvinism  ; from 
that  to  W esleyanism ; and  from  this,  outside  of  technical 
Christianity  altogether,  to  pure  ‘ liberalism  ’ or  tran- 
scendental idealism,  whether  or  not  of  the  mind-cure 
type,  taking  in  the  mediaeval  mystics,  the  quietists,  the 
pietists,  and  quakers  by  the  way,  we  can  trace  the  stages 
of  progress  towards  the  idea  of  an  immediate  spiritual 
help,  experienced  by  the  individual  in  his  forlornness 
and  standing  in  no  essential  need  of  doctrinal  apparatus 
or  propitiatory  machinery. 

Psychology  and  religion  are  thus  in  perfect  harmony 
up  to  this  point,  since  both  admit  that  there  are  forces 
seemingly  outside  of  the  conscious  individual  that  bring 
redemption  to  his  life.  Nevertheless  psychology,  defin- 
ing these  forces  as  ‘ subconscious,’  and  speaking  of  their 
effects  as  due  to  ‘ incubation,’  or  ‘ cerebration,’  implies 
that  they  do  not  transcend  the  individual’s  personality  ; 
and  herein  she  diverges  from  Christian  theology,  which 
insists  that  they  are  direct  supernatural  operations  of  the 
Deity.  I propose  to  you  that  we  do  not  yet  consider 
this  divergence  final,  but  leave  the  question  for  a while 
in  abeyance  — continued  inquiry  may  enable  us  to  get 
rid  of  some  of  the  apparent  discord. 

Revert,  then,  for  a moment  more  to  the  psychology  of 
self-surrender. 

When  you  find  a man  living  on  the  ragged  edge  of 
his  consciousness,  pent  in  to  his  sin  and  want  and  incom- 
pleteness, and  consequently  inconsolable,  and  then  simply 
tell  him  that  all  is  well  with  him,  that  he  must  stop  his 
worry,  break  with  his  discontent,  and  give  up  his  anxiety, 
you  seem  to  him  to  come  with  pure  absurdities.  The 


212  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

only  positive  consciousness  he  has  tells  him  that  all  is  no\ 
well,  and  the  better  way  you  offer  sounds  simply  as  if 
you  proposed  to  him  to  assert  cold-blooded  falsehoods. 
‘ The  will  to  believe  ’ cannot  be  stretched  as  far  as  that. 
W e can  make  ourselves  more  faithful  to  a belief  of  which 
we  have  the  rudiments,  but  we  cannot  create  a belief  out 
of  whole  cloth  when  our  perception  actively  assures  us  of 
its  opposite.  The  better  mind  proposed  to  us  comes  in 
that  case  in  the  form  of  a pure  negation  of  the  only  mind 
we  have,  and  we  cannot  actively  will  a pure  negation. 

There  are  only  two  ways  in  which  it  is  possible  to  get 
rid  of  anger,  worry,  fear,  despair,  or  other  undesirable 
affections.  One  is  that  an  opposite  affection  should  over- 
poweringly  break  over  us,  and  the  other  is  by  getting  so 
exhausted  with  the  struggle  that  we  have  to  stop,  — so 
we  drop  down,  give  up,  and  don't  care  any  longer.  Our 
emotional  bram-centres  strike  work,  and  we  lapse  into  a 
temporary  apathy.  Now  there  is  documentary  proof  that 
this  state  of  temporary  exhaustion  not  infrequently  forms 
part  of  the  conversion  crisis.  So  long  as  the  egoistic  worry 
of  the  sick  soid  guards  the  door,  the  expansive  confidence 
of  the  soul  of  faith  gains  no  presence.  But  let  the  former 
faint  away,  even  but  for  a moment,  and  the  latter  can 
profit  by  the  opportunity,  and,  having  once  acquired 
possession,  may  retain  it.  Carlyle’s  Teufelsdrbckh  passes 
from  the  everlasting  No  to  the  everlasting  Yes  through 
a ^ Centre  of  Indifference.’ 

Let  me  give  you  a good  illustration  of  this  feature 
in  the  conversion  process.  That  genuine  saint,  David 
Brainerd,  describes  his  own  crisis  in  the  following 
words  : — 

“ One  morning,  while  I was  walking  in  a solitary  place  as 
usual,  I at  once  saw  that  all  my  contrivances  and  projects  to  effect 
or  procure  deliverance  and  salvation  for  myself  were  utterly  in 


CONVERSION 


213 


vain  ; I was  brought  quite  to  a stand,  as  finding  myself  totally 
lost.  I saw  that  it  was  forever  impossible  for  me  to  do  anything 
towards  helping  or  delivering  myself,  that  I had  made  all  the 
pleas  I ever  could  have  made  to  all  eternity ; and  that  all  my 
pleas  were  vain,  for  I saw  that  self-interest  had  led  me  to  pray, 
and  that  I had  never  once  prayed  from  any  respect  to  the  glory 
of  God.  I saw  that  there  was  no  necessary  connection  between 
my  prayers  and  the  bestowment  of  divine  mercy  ; that  they 
laid  not  the  least  obligation  upon  God  to  bestow  his  grace  upon 
me ; and  that  there  was  no  more  virtue  or  goodness  in  them 
than  there  would  be  in  my  paddling  with  my  hand  in  the  water. 
I saw  that  I had  been  heaping  up  my  devotions  before  God, 
fasting,  praying,  etc.,  pretending,  and  indeed  really  thinking 
sometimes  that  I was  aiming  at  the  glory  of  God ; whereas  I 
never  once  truly  intended  it,  but  only  my  own  happiness.  I 
saw  that  as  I had  never  done  anything  for  God,  I had  no  claim 
on  anything  from  him  but  perdition,  on  account  of  my  hypoc- 
risy and  mockery.  When  I saw  evidently  that  I had  regard 
to  nothing  but  self-interest,  then  my  duties  appeared  a vile 
mockery  and  a continual  course  of  lies,  for  the  whole  was  no- 
thing but  self-worship,  and  an  horrid  abuse  of  God. 

“ I continued,  as  I remember,  in  this  state  of  mind,  from 
Friday  morning  till  the  Sabbath  evening  following  (July  12, 
1739),  when  I was  walking  again  in  the  same  solitary  place. 
Here,  in  a mournful  melancholy  state  1 was  attempting  to  pray  ; 
hut  found  no  heart  to  engage  in  that  or  any  other  duty  ; my 
former  concern,  exercise,  and  religious  affections  were  now 
gone.  I thought  that  the  Spirit  of  God  had  quite  left  me; 
hut  still  was  not  distressed  ; yet  disconsolate,  as  if  there  was 
nothing  in  heaven  or  earth  could  make  me  haj)py.  Having 
heen  thus  endeavoring  to  pray  — though,  as  I thought,  very 
stupid  and  senseless  — for  near  half  an  hour ; then,  as  I was 
walking  in  a thick  grove,  unspeakable  glory  seemed  to  open  to 
the  apprehension  of  my  soul.  I do  not  mean  any  external 
brightness,  nor  any  imagination  of  a body  of  light,  but  it  was  a 
new  inward  apprehension  or  view  that  I had  of  God,  such  as  I 
never  had  before,  nor  anything  which  had  the  least  resemblance 
to  it.  I had  no  particular  apprehension  of  any  one  person  in 


214  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


the  Trinity,  either  the  Father,  the  Son,  or  the  Holy  Ghost ; but 
it  appeared  to  be  Divine  glory.  My  soul  rejoiced  with  joy  un- 
speakable, to  see  such  a God,  such  a glorious  Divine  Being; 
and  I was  inwardly  pleased  and  satisfied  that  he  should  be 
God  over  all  for  ever  and  ever.  My  soul  was  so  captivated 
and  delighted  with  the  excellency  of  God  that  I was  even 
swallowed  up  in  him ; at  least  to  that  degree  that  I had  no 
thought  about  my  own  salvation,  and  scarce  reflected  that  there 
was  such  a creature  as  myself.  I continued  in  this  state  of 
inward  joy,  peace,  and  astonishing,  till  near  dark  without  any 
sensible  abatement ; and  then  began  to  think  and  examine  what 
I had  seen  ; and  felt  sweetly  composed  in  my  mind  all  the  even- 
ing following.  I felt  myself  in  a new  world,  and  everything 
about  me  appeared  with  a different  aspect  from  what  it  was 
wont  to  do.  At  this  time,  the  way  of  salvation  opened  to  me 
with  such  infinite  wisdom,  suitableness,  and  excellency,  that  I 
wondered  I should  ever  think  of  any  other  way  of  salvation  ; 
was  amazed  that  I had  not  dropped  my  own  contrivances,  and 
complied  with  this  lovely,  blessed,  and  excellent  way  before. 
If  I could  have  been  saved  by  my  own  duties  or  any  other  way 
that  I had  formerly  contrived,  my  whole  soul  would  now  have 
refused  it.  I wondered  that  all  the  world  did  not  see  and  com- 
ply with  this  way  of  salvation,  entirely  by  the  righteousness  of 
Christ.”  1 

I have  italicized  the  passage  which  records  the  exhaus' 
tion  of  the  anxious  emotion  hitherto  habitual.  In  a 
large  proportion,  perhaps  the  majority,  of  reports,  the 
writers  speak  as  if  the  exhaustion  of  the  lower  and  the 
entrance  of  the  higher  emotion  were  simultaneous,^  yet 

- Edward’s  and  Dwight’s  Life  of  Brainerd,  New  Haven,  1822,  pp.  45 
47,  abridged. 

^ Describing  the  whole  phenomenon  as  a change  of  equilibrium,  we  might 
say  that  the  movement  of  new  psychic  energies  towards  the  personal  centre 
and  the  recession  of  old  ones  towards  the  margin  (or  the  rising  of  some  ob- 
jects above,  and  the  sinking  of  others  below  the  conscious  threshold)  were 
only  two  ways  of  describing  an  indivisible  event.  Doubtless  this  is  often 
absolutely  true,  and  Starbuck  is  right  when  he  says  that  ‘ self-surrender  ’ 
and  ‘ new  determination,’  though  seeming  at  first  sight  to  be  such  different 


CONVERSION 


215 


often  again  they  speak  as  if  the  higher  actively  drove  the 
lower  out.  This  is  undoubtedly  true  in  a great  many 
instances,  as  we  shall  presently  see.  But  often  there 
seems  little  doubt  that  both  conditions  — subconscious 
ripening  of  the  one  affection  and  exhaustion  of  the  other 
— must  simultaneously  have  conspired,  in  order  to  pro- 
duce the  result, 

T.  W.  B.,  a convert  of  Nettleton’s,  being  brought  to  an  acute 
paroxysm  of  conviction  of  sin,  ate  nothing  all  day,  locked  him- 
self in  his  room  in  the  evening  in  complete  despair,  crying 
aloud,  “How  long,  O Lord,  how  long?”  “After  repeating 
this  and  similar  language,”  he  says,  “ several  times,  I seemed 
to  sink  away  into  a state  of  insensibility.  When  I came  to 
myself  again  I was  on  my  knees,  praying  not  for  myself  but 
for  others.  I felt  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  willing  that 
he  should  do  with  me  as  should  seem  good  in  his  sight.  My 
concern  seemed  all  lost  in  concern  for  others.”  ^ 

Our  great  American  revivalist  Finney  writes : “ I said  to 
myself  : ‘ What  is  this  ? I must  have  grieved  the  Holy  Ghost 
entirely  away.  I have  lost  all  my  conviction.  I have  not  a 
particle  of  concern  about  my  soul ; and  it  must  be  that  the 
Spirit  has  left  me.’  ‘ Why  ! ’ thought  I,  ‘ I never  was  so  far 
from  being  concerned  about  my  own  salvation  in  my  life.’  . . . 
I tried  to  recall  my  convictions,  to  get  back  again  the  load  of 
sin  under  which  I had  been  laboring.  I tried  in  vain  to  make 
myself  anxious.  I was  so  quiet  and  peaceful  that  I tried  to 
feel  eoncerned  about  that,  lest  it  should  be  the  result  of  my 
having  grieved  the  Spirit  away.”  ^ 

But  beyond  all  question  there  are  persons  in  whom, 
quite  independently  of  any  exhaustion  in  the  Subject’s 
capacity  for  feehng,  or  even  in  the  absence  of  any  acute 

experiences,  are  “ really  the  same  thing.  Self-surrender  sees  the  change  in 
terms  of  the  old  self  ; determination  sees  it  in  terms  of  the  new.”  Op, 
cit.,  p.  160. 

^ A.  A.  Bonar  : Nettleton  and  his  Labors,  Edinburgh,  1854,  p.  261. 

2 Charles  G.  Finney  : Memoirs  written  by  Himself,  1876,  pp.  17,  18. 


216  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


previous  feeling,  the  higher  condition,  having  reachea 
the  due  degree  of  energy,  bursts  through  all  barriers  and 
svreeps  in  like  a sudden  flood.  These  are  the  most  strik- 
ing and  memorable  cases,  the  cases  of  instantaneous  con- 
version to  which  the  conception  of  divine  grace  has  been 
most  peculiarly  attached.  I have  given  one  of  them  at 
length  — the  case  of  Mr.  Bradley.  But  I had  better  re- 
serve the  other  cases  and  my  comments  on  the  rest  of 
the  subject  for  the  following  lecture. 


LECTURE  X 


CONVERSION  — Concluded 

IN  this  lecture  we  have  to  finish  the  subject  of  Conver" 
sion,  considering  at  first  those  striking  instantaneous 
instances  of  which  Saint  Paul’s  is  the  most  eminent,  and 
in  which,  often  amid  tremendous  emotional  excitement 
or  perturbation  of  the  senses,  a complete  division  is  estab- 
lished in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  between  the  old  life 
and  the  new.  Conversion  of  this  type  is  an  important 
phase  of  religious  experience,  owing  to  the  part  which  it 
has  played  in  Protestant  theology,  and  it  behooves  us  to 
study  it  conscientiously  on  that  account. 

I think  I had  better  cite  two  or  three  of  these  cases 
before  proceeding  to  a more  generalized  account.  One 
must  know  concrete  instances  first;  for,  as  Professor 
Agassiz  used  to  say,  one  can  see  no  farther  into  a gen- 
eralization than  just  so  far  as  one’s  previous  acquaintance 
with  particiilars  enables  one  to  take  it  in.  I wiU  go  back, 
then,  to  the  case  of  our  friend  Henry  Alhne,  and  quote 
his  report  of  the  26th  of  March,  1775,  on  which  his  poor 
divided  mind  became  unified  for  good. 

“ As  I was  about  sunset  wandering  in  the  fields  lamenting 
my  miserable  lost  and  undone  condition,  and  almost  ready  to 
sink  under  my  burden,  I thought  I was  in  such  a miserable 
case  as  never  any  man  was  before.  I returned  to  the  house, 
and  when  I got  to  the  door,  just  as  I was  stepping  off  the 
threshold,  the  following  impressions  came  into  my  mind  like  a 
powerful  but  small  still  voice.  You  have  been  seeking,  pray* 


218  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


ing,  reforming,  laboring,  reading,  hearing,  and  meditating,  and 
what  have  you  done  by  it  towards  your  salvation  ? Are  you 
any  nearer  to  conversion  now  than  when  you  first  began  ? Are 
you  any  more  prepared  for  heaven,  or  fitter  to  appear  before 
the  impartial  bar  of  God,  than  when  you  first  began  to  seek? 

“ It  brought  such  conviction  on  me  that  I was  obliged  to  saj 
that  I did  not  think  I was  one  step  nearer  than  at  first,  but  as 
much  condemned,  as  much  exposed,  and  as  miserable  as  before. 
I cried  out  within  myself,  O Lord  God,  I am  lost,  and  if  thou, 
O Lord,  dost  not  find  out  some  new  way,  I know  nothing  of,  I 
shall  never  be  saved,  for  the  ways  and  methods  I have  pre- 
scribed to  myself  have  all  failed  me,  and  I am  willing  they 
should  fail.  O Lord,  have  mercy ! O Lord,  have  mercy ! 

“ These  discoveries  continued  until  I went  into  the  house  and 
sat  down.  After  I sat  down,  being  all  in  confusion,  like  a 
drowning  man  that  was  just  giving  up  to  sink,  and  almost  in 
an  agony,  I turned  very  suddenly  round  in  my  chair,  and  see- 
ing part  of  an  old  Bible  lying  in  one  of  the  chairs,  I caught 
hold  of  it  in  great  haste  ; and  opening  it  without  any  premedi- 
tation, cast  my  eyes  on  the  38th  Psalm,  which  was  the  first 
time  I ever  saw  the  word  of  God : it  took  hold  of  me  with  such 
power  that  it  seemed  to  go  through  my  whole  soul,  so  that  it 
seemed  as  if  God  was  praying  in,  with,  and  for  me.  About 
this  time  my  father  called  the  family  to  attend  prayers  ; I at- 
tended, but  paid  no  regard  to  what  he  said  in  his  prayer,  but 
continued  praying  in  those  words  of  the  Psalm.  Oh,  help  me, 
help  me ! cried  I,  thou  Redeemer  of  souls,  and  save  me,  or  I am 
gone  forever  ; thou  canst  this  night,  if  thou  pleasest,  with  one 
drop  of  thy  blood  atone  for  my  sins,  and  appease  the  wrath  of 
an  angry  God.  At  that  instant  of  time  when  I gave  all  up 
to  him  to  do  with  me  as  he  pleased,  and  was  willing  that  God 
should  rule  over  me  at  his  pleasure,  redeeming  love  broke  into 
my  soul  with  repeated  scriptures,  with  such  power  that  my 
whole  soul  seemed  to  be  melted  down  with  love  ; the  burden  of 
guilt  and  condemnation  was  gone,  darkness  was  expelled,  my 
heart  humbled  and  filled  with  gratitude,  and  my  whole  soul, 
that  was  a few  minutes  ago  groaning  under  mountains  of  death, 
and  crying  to  an  unknown  God  for  help,  was  now  filled  with 


CONVERSION 


219 


immortal  love,  soaring  on  the  wings  of  faith,  freed  from  the 
chains  of  death  and  darkness,  and  crying  out.  My  Lord  and  my 
God  ; thou  art  my  rock  and  my  fortress,  my  shield  and  my 
high  tower,  my  life,  my  joy,  my  present  and  my  everlasting  por- 
tion. Looking  up,  I thought  I saw  that  same  light  [he  had  on 
more  than  one  previous  occasion  seen  subjectively  a bright  blaze 
of  light] , though  it  appeared  different ; and  as  soon  as  I saw 
it,  the  design  was  opened  to  me,  according  to  his  promise,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  cry  out : Enough,  enough,  O blessed  God ! The 
work  of  conversion,  the  change,  and  the  manifestations  of  it  are 
no  more  disputable  than  that  light  which  I see,  or  anything 
that  ever  I saw. 

“ In  the  midst  of  all  my  joys,  in  less  than  half  an  hour  after 
my  soul  was  set  at  liberty,  the  Lord  discovered  to  me  my  la- 
bor in  the  ministry  and  call  to  preach  the  gosj^el.  I cried  out. 
Amen,  Lord,  I ’ll  go ; send  me,  send  me.  I spent  the  greatest 
part  of  the  night  in  ecstasies  of  joy,  praising  and  adoring  the 
Ancient  of  Days  for  his  free  and  unbounded  grace.  After 
I had  been  so  long  in  this  transport  and  heavenly  frame  that 
my  nature  seemed  to  require  sleep,  I thought  to  close  my  eyes 
for  a few  moments  ; then  the  devil  stepped  in,  and  told  me 
that  if  I went  to  sleep,  I should  lose  it  all,  and  when  I should 
awake  in  the  morning  I would  find  it  to  be  nothing  but  a fancy 
and  delusion.  I immediately  cried  out,  0 Lord  God,  if  I am 
deceived,  undeceive  me. 

“ I then  closed  my  eyes  for  a few  minutes,  and  seemed  to  be 
refreshed  with  sleep  ; and  when  I awoke,  the  first  inquiry  was. 
Where  is  my  God  ? And  in  an  instant  of  time,  my  soul  seemed 
awake  in  and  with  God,  and  surrounded  by  the  arms  of  ever- 
lasting love.  About  sunrise  I arose  with  joy  to  relate  to  my 
parents  what  God  had  done  for  my  soul,  and  declared  to  them 
the  miracle  of  God’s  unbounded  grace.  I took  a Bible  to  show 
them  the  words  that  were  impressed  by  God  on  my  soul  the 
evening  before  ; but  when  I came  to  open  the  Bible,  it  appeared 
all  new  to  me. 

“ I so  longed  to  be  useful  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  in  preach- 
ing the  gospel,  that  it  seemed  as  if  I could  not  rest  any  longer, 
but  go  I must  and  tell  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love.  I lost 


220  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

all  taste  for  carnal  pleasures,  and  carnal  company,  and  was 
enabled  to  forsake  them.”  ^ 

Young  Mr.  Alline,  after  the  briefest  of  delays,  and 
with  no  book-learning  but  bis  Bible,  and  no  teaching 
save  that  of  bis  own  experience,  became  a Christian  min- 
ister, and  thenceforward  his  life  was  fit  to  rank,  for  its 
austerity  and  single-mindedness,  with  that  of  the  most 
devoted  samts.  But  happy  as  he  became  in  his  strenu- 
ous way,  he  never  got  his  taste  for  even  the  most  inno- 
cent carnal  pleasures  back.  We  must  class  him,  like 
Bunyan  and  Tolstoy,  amongst  those  upon  whose  soul  the 
iron  of  melancholy  left  a permanent  imprint.  His  re- 
demption was  into  another  universe  than  this  mere  nat- 
ural world,  and  life  remained  for  him  a sad  and  patient 
trial.  Years  later  we  can  find  him  making  such  an  entry 
as  this  in  his  diary  : ‘‘  On  Wednesday  the  12th  I preached 
at  a wedding,  and  had  the  happiness  thereby  to  be  the 
means  of  excluding  carnal  mirth.” 

The  next  case  I will  give  is  that  of  a correspond- 
ent of  Professor  Leuba,  printed  in  the  latter’s  article, 
already  cited,  in  vol.  vi.  of  the  American  Journal  of 
Psychology.  This  subject  was  an  Oxford  graduate,  the 
son  of  a clergyman,  and  the  story  resembles  in  many 
points  the  classic  case  of  Colonel  Gardiner,  which  every- 
body may  be  supposed  to  know.  Here  it  is,  somewhat 
abridged : — 

“ Between  the  period  of  leaving  Oxford  and  my  conversion  I 
never  darkened  the  door  of  my  father’s  church,  although  I lived 
with  him  for  eight  years,  making  what  money  I wanted  by 
journalism,  and  spending  it  in  high  carousal  with  any  one  who 
would  sit  with  me  and  drink  it  away.  So  I lived,  sometimes 
drunk  for  a week  together,  and  then  a terrible  repentance,  and 
would  not  touch  a drop  for  a whole  month. 

^ Life  and  Journals,  Boston,  1806,  pp.  31-40,  abridged. 


CONVERSION 


221 


“ In  all  this  period,  that  is,  up  to  thirty-three  years  of  age,  1 
never  had  a desire  to  reform  on  religious  grounds.  But  all  my 
pangs  were  due  to  some  terrible  remorse  I used  to  feel  after  a 
heavy  carousal,  the  remorse  taking  the  shape  of  regret  after 
my  folly  in  wasting  my  life  in  such  a way  — a man  of  superior 
talents  and  education.  This  terrible  remorse  turned  me  gray 
in  one  night,  and  whenever  it  came  upon  me  I was  perceptibly 
grayer  the  next  morning.  What  I suffered  in  this  way  is  be- 
yond the  expression  of  words.  It  was  hell-fire  in  all  its  most 
dreadful  tortures.  Often  did  I vow  that  if  I got  over  ‘ this 
time  ’ I would  reform.  Alas,  in  about  three  days  I fully  recov- 
ered, and  was  as  happy  as  ever.  So  it  went  on  for  years,  but, 
with  a physique  like  a rhinoceros,  I always  recovered,  and  as 
long  as  I let  drink  alone,  no  man  was  as  capable  of  enjoying 
life  as  I was. 

“ I was  converted  in  my  own  bedroom  in  my  father’s  rectory 
house  at  precisely  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a hot  July 
day  (July  13,  1886).  I was  in  perfect  health,  having  been  off 
from  the  drink  for  nearly  a month.  I was  in  no  way  troubled 
about  my  soul.  In  fact,  God  was  not  in  my  thoughts  that  day. 
A young  lady  friend  sent  me  a copy  of  Professor  Drummond’s 
Natural  Law  in  the  Spiritual  World,  asking  me  my  opinion  of 
it  as  a literary  work  only.  Being  proud  of  my  critical  talents 
and  wishing  to  enhance  myself  in  my  new  friend’s  esteem,  I 
took  the  book  to  my  bedroom  for  quiet,  intending  to  give  it  a 
thorough  study,  and  then  write  her  what  I thought  of  it.  It 
was  here  that  God  met  me  face  to  face,  and  I shall  never  for- 
get the  meeting.  ‘ He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life  eternal 
he  that  hath  not  the  Son  hath  not  life.’  I had  read  this 
scores  of  times  before,  but  this  made  all  the  difference.  I was 
now  in  God’s  presence  and  my  attention  was  absolutely  ‘ sol- 
dered ’ on  to  this  verse,  and  I was  not  allowed  to  proceed  with 
the  book  till  I had  fairly  considered  what  these  words  really 
involved.  Only  then  was  I allowed  to  proceed,  feeling  all  the 
while  that  there  was  another  being  in  my  bedroom,  though 
not  seen  by  me.  The  stillness  was  very  marvelous,  and  I felt 
supremely  happy.  It  was  most  unquestionably  shown  me,  in 
one  second  of  time,  that  I had  never  touched  the  Eternal : and 


222  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  if  I died  then,  I must  inevitably  be  lost.  I was  undone. 
I knew  it  as  well  as  I now  know  I am  saved.  The  Spirit  of 
God  showed  it  me  in  ineffable  love  ; there  was  no  terror  in  it ; 
I felt  God’s  love  so  powerfully  upon  me  that  only  a mighty  sor- 
row crept  over  me  that  I had  lost  all  through  my  own  folly;  and 
what  was  I to  do  ? What  could  I do  ? I did  not  repent  even ; 
God  never  asked  me  to  repent.  All  I felt  was  ‘ I am  undone,’ 
and  God  cannot  help  it,  although  he  loves  me.  No  fault  on 
the  part  of  the  Almighty.  All  the  time  I was  supremely 
happy  : I felt  like  a little  child  before  his  father.  I had  done 
wrong,  but  my  Father  did  not  scold  me,  but  loved  me  most 
wondrously.  Still  my  doom  was  sealed.  I was  lost  to  a cer- 
tainty, and  being  naturally  of  a brave  disposition  I did  not 
quail  under  it,  but  deep  sorrow  for  the  past,  mixed  with  regret 
for  what  I had  lost,  took  hold  upon  me,  and  my  soul  thrilled 
within  me  to  think  it  was  all  over.  Then  there  crept  in  upon 
me  so  gently,  so  lovingly,  so  unmistakably,  a way  of  escape, 
and  what  was  it  after  all  ? The  old,  old  story  over  again,  told 
in  the  simplest  way : ‘ There  is  no  name  under  heaven  whereby 
ye  can  be  saved  except  that  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.’  No 
words  were  spoken  to  me  ; my  soul  seemed  to  see  my  Saviour 
in  the  spirit,  and  from  that  hour  to  this,  nearly  nine  years  now, 
there  has  never  been  in  my  life  one  doubt  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  God  the  Father  both  worked  upon  me  that  after- 
noon in  July,  both  differently,  and  both  in  the  most  perfect 
love  conceivable,  and  I rejoiced  there  and  then  in  a conversion 
so  astounding  that  the  whole  village  heard  of  it  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours. 

“ But  a time  of  trouble  was  yet  to  come.  The  day  after 
my  conversion  I went  into  the  hay-field  to  lend  a hand  with 
the  harvest,  and  not  having  made  any  promise  to  God  to  ab- 
stain or  drink  in  moderation  only,  I took  too  much  and  came 
home  drunk.  My  poor  sister  was  heart-broken ; and  I felt 
ashamed  of  myself  and  got  to  my  bedroom  at  once,  where  she 
followed  me,  weeping  copiously.  She  said  I had  been  con- 
verted and  fallen  away  instantly.  But  although  I was  quite 
full  of  drink  (not  muddled,  however),  I knew  that  God’s  work 
begun  in  me  was  not  going  to  be  wasted.  About  midday  I 


CONVERSION 


223 


made  on  my  knees  the  first  prayer  before  God  for  twenty  years. 
T did  not  ask  to  be  forgiven  ; I felt  that  was  no  good,  for  1 
would  be  sure  to  fall  again.  Well,  what  did  I do  ? I com- 
mitted myself  to  him  in  the  profoundest  belief  that  my  individ- 
uality was  going  to  be  destroyed,  that  he  would  take  all  from 
me,  and  I was  willing.  In  such  a surrender  lies  the  secret  of 
a holy  life.  From  that  hour  drink  has  had  no  terrors  for  me  : 
I never  touch  it,  never  want  it.  The  same  thing  occurred  with 
my  pipe : after  being  a regular  smoker  from  my  twelfth  year 
the  desire  for  it  went  at  once,  and  has  never  returned.  So  with 
every  known  sin,  the  deliverance  in  each  case  being  permanent 
and  complete.  I have  ha,d  no  temptation  .since  conversion,  God 
seemingly  having  shut  out  Satan  from  tFaT"C5urse  with  me. 
He  gets  a free  hand  in  other  ways,  but  never  on  sins  of  the 
flesh.  Since  I gave  up  to  God  all  ownership  in  my  own  life, 
he  has  guided  me  in  a thousand  ways,  and  has  opened  my  path 
in  a way  almost  incredible  to  those  who  do  not  enjoy  the  bless- 
ing of  a truly  surrendered  life.” 

So  much  for  our  graduate  of  Oxford,  in  whom  you 
notice  the  complete  abolition  of  an  ancient  appetite  as 
one  of  the  conversion’s  fruits. 

The  most  curious  record  of  sudden  conversion  with 
which  I am  acquainted  is  that  of  M.  Alphonse  Ratis- 
bonne,  a freethinking  French  Jew,  to  Catholicism,  at 
Rome  in  1842.  In  a letter  to  a clerical  friend,  written  a 
few  months  later,  the  convert  gives  a palpitating  account  of 
the  circumstances.^  The  predisposing  conditions  appear 
to  have  been  slight.  He  had  an  elder  brother  who  had 
been  converted  and  was  a Catholic  priest.  He  was  him- 
self irreligious,  and  nourished  an  antipathy  to  the  apos 
tate  brother  and  generally  to  his  ‘ cloth.’  Finding  him- 
self at  Rome  in  his  twenty-ninth  year,  he  fell  in  with  a 

^ My  quotations  are  made  from  an  Italian  translation  of  this  letter  in  the 
Biografia  del  Sig.  M.  A.  Eatisbonne,  Ferrara,  1843,  which  I have  to  thank 
Monsignore  D.  O’Connell  of  Rome  for  bringing  to  my  notice-  I abridge 
the  original. 


224  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


French  gentleman  who  tried  to  make  a proselyte  of  him, 
but  who  succeeded  no  farther  after  two  or  three  conversa- 
tions  than  to  get  him  to  hang  (half  jocosely)  a religious 
medal  round  his  neck,  and  to  accept  and  read  a copy  of 
a short  prayer  to  the  Virgin.  M.  Ratisbonne  represents 
lis  own  part  in  the  conversations  as  having  been  of  a light 
and  chaffing  order ; but  he  notes  the  fact  that  for  some 
days  he  was  unable  to  banish  the  words  of  the  prayer 
from  his  mind,  and  that  the  night  before  the  crisis  he 
had  a sort  of  nightmare,  in  the  imagery  of  which  a black 
cross  with  no  Christ  upon  it  figured.  Nevertheless,  until 
noon  of  the  next  day  he  was  free  in  mind  and  spent  the 
time  in  trivial  conversations.  I now  give  his  own  words. 

“ If  at  this  time  any  one  had  accosted  me,  saying : ‘ Alphonse, 
in  a quarter  of  an  hour  you  shall  be  adoring  Jesus  Christ  as 
your  God  and  Saviour ; you  shall  lie  prostrate  with  your  face 
upon  the  ground  in  a humble  church  ; you  shall  be  smiting 
your  breast  at  the  foot  of  a priest ; you  shall  pass  the  carnival 
in  a college  of  Jesuits  to  prepare  yourself  to  receive  baptism, 
ready  to  give  your  life  for  the  Catholic  faith  ; you  shall  re- 
nounce the  world  and  its  pomps  and  pleasures  ; renounce  your 
fortune,  your  hopes,  and  if  need  be,  your  betrothed  ; the  affec- 
tions of  your  family,  the  esteem  of  your  friends,  and  your  attach- 
ment to  the  Jewish  people;  you  shall  have  no  other  aspiration 
than  to  follow  Christ  and  bear  his  cross  till  death  ; ’ — if,  I say, 
a prophet  had  come  to  me  with  such  a prediction,  I should  have 
judged  that  only  one  person  could  be  more  mad  than  he,  — 
whosoever,  namely,  might  believe  in  the  possibility  of  such 
senseless  folly  becoming  true.  And  yet  that  folly  is  at  present 
my  only  wisdom,  my  sole  happiness. 

“ Coming  out  of  the  cafe  I met  the  carriage  of  Monsieur  B. 
[the  proselyting  friend].  He  stopped  and  invited  me  in  for  a 
drive,  but  first  asked  me  to  wait  for  a few  minutes  whilst  he 
attended  to  some  duty  at  the  church  of  San  Andrea  delle  Fratte. 
Instead  of  waiting  in  the  carriage,  I entered  the  church  myself 
to  look  at  it.  The  church  of  San  Andrea  was  poor,  small,  and 


CONVERSION 


226 


empty ; I believe  that  I found  myself  there  almost  alone.  No 
work  of  art  attracted  my  attention ; and  I passed  my  eyes 
mechanically  over  its  interior  without  being  arrested  by  any 
particular  thought.  I can  only  remember  an  entirely  black 
dog  which  went  trotting  and  turning  before  me  as  I mused  In 
an  instant  the  dog  had  disappeared,  the  whole  church  had  van' 
ished,  I no  longer  saw  anything,  . or  more  truly  I saw,  O 
my  God,  one  thing  alone. 

“ Heavens,  how  can  I speak  of  it  ? Oh  no  J human  words 
cannot  attain  to  expressing  the  inexpressible.  Any  description, 
however  sublime  it  might  be,  could  be  but  a profanation  of  the 
unspeakable  truth. 

“ I was  there  prostrate  on  the  ground,  bathed  in  my  tears, 
with  my  heart  beside  itself,  when  M.  B.  called  me  back  to  life 
I could  not  reply  to  the  questions  which  followed  from  him  one 
upon  the  other.  But  finally  I took  the  medal  which  I had  on 
my  breast,  and  with  all  the  effusion  of  my  soul  I kissed  the 
image  of  the  Virgin,  radiant  with  grace,  which  it  bore.  Oh, 
indeed,  it  was  She  ! It  was  indeed  She ! [What  he  had  seen 
had  been  a vision  of  the  Virgin.] 

“ I did  not  know  where  I was : I did  not  know  whether  I 
was  Alphonse  or  another.  I only  felt  myself  changed  and  be- 
lieved myself  another  me  ; I looked^or  myself_  in  myself  and 
did  not  find  myself.  In  the  bottom  of  my  soul  I felt  an  explo- 
sion of  the  most  ardent  joy ; I could  not  speak  ; I had  no  wish 
to  reveal  what  had  happened.  But  I felt  something  solemn 
and  sacred  within  me  which  made  me  ask  for  a priest.  I was 
led  to  one ; and  there,  alone,  after  he  had  given  me  the  positive 
order,  I spoke  as  best  I could,  kneeling,  and  with  my  heart  still 
trembling.  I could  give  no  account  to  myself  of  the  truth 
of  which  I had  acquired  a knowledge  and  a faith.  All  that  I 
can  say  is  that  in  an  instant  the  bandage  had  fallen  from  my 
eyes ; and  not  one  bandage  only,  but  the  whole  manifold  of 
bandages  in  which  I had  been  brought  up.  One  after  another 
they  rapidly  disappeared,  even  as  the  mud  and  ice  disappear 
under  the  rays  of  the  burning  sun. 

“ I came  out  as  from  a sepulchre,  from  an  abyss  of  darkness ; 
and  I was  living,  perfectly  living.  But  I wept,  for  at  the  bob 


226  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


tom  of  that  gulf  I saw  the  extreme  of  misery  from  which  I had 
been  saved  by  an  infinite  mercy  ; and  I shuddered  at  the  sight 
of  my  iniquities,  stujjefied,  melted,  overwhelmed  with  wonder 
and  with  gratitude.  You  may  ask  me  how  I came  to  this  new 
insight,  for  truly  I had  never  opened  a book  of  religion  nor 
‘ven  read  a single  page  of  the  Bible,  and  the  dogma  of  original 
sin  is  either  entirely  denied  or  forgotten  by  the  Hebrews  of 
to-day,  so  that  I had  thought  so  little  about  it  that  1 doub(, 
whether  I ever  knew  its  name.  But  how  came  I,  then,  to  this 
perception  of  it?  I can  answer  nothing  save  this,  that  on  eu' 
fcering  that  church  I was  in  darkness  altogether,  and  on  com 
ing  out  of  it  I saw  the  fullness  of  the  light.  I can  explain  the 
change  no  better  than  by  the  simile  of  a profound  sleep  or  the 
analogy  of  one  born  blind  who  should  suddenly  open  his  eyes 
to  the  day.  He  sees,  but  cannot  define  the  light  which  bathes 
him  and  by  means  of  which  he  sees  the  objects  which  excite  his 
wonder.  If  we  cannot  explain  physical  light,  how  can  we  ex- 
plain the  light  which  is  the  truth  itself  ? And  I think  I remain 
within  the  limits  of  veracity  when  I say  that  without  having  any 
knowledge  of  the  letter  of  religious  doctiune,  I now  intuitively 
perceived  its  sense  and  spirit.  Better  than  if  I saw  them,  1 
felt  those  hidden  things  ; I felt  them  by  the  inexplicable  effects 
they  produced  in  me.  It  all  happened  in  my  interior  mind ; 
and  those  imj^ressions,  more  rapid  than  thought,  shook  my  soul, 
revolved  and  turned  it,  as  it  were,  in  another  direction,  towards 
other  aims,  by  other  paths.  I express  myself  badly.  But  do 
you  wish.  Lord,  that  I should  inclose  in  poor  and  barren  words 
sentiments  which  the  heart  alone  can  understand  ? ” 

I might  multiply  cases  almost  indefinitely,  but  these 
will  suffice  to  show  you  how  real,  definite,  and  memo 
rable  an  event  a sudden  conversion  may  be  to  him  whfc 
has  the  experience.  Throughout  the  height  of  it  he  un- 
doubtedly seems  to  himself  a passive  spectator  or  under- 
goer of  an  astounding  process  performed  upon  him  from 
above.  There  is  too  much  evidence  of  this  for  any  doubt 
of  it  to  be  possible.  Theology,  combining  this  fact  with 
the  doctrines  of  election  and  grace,  has  concluded  that 


CONVERSION 


227 


cte  spirit  of  God  is  with  us  at  these  dramatic  moments 
in  a peculiarly  miraculous  way,  unlike  what  happens  at 
any  other  juncture  of  our  lives.  At  that  moment,  it  be- 
heves,  an  absolutely  new  nature  is  breathed  into  us,  and 
we  become  partakers  of  the  very  substance  of  the  Deity. 

That  the  conversion  should  be  instantaneous  seems 
called  for  on  this  view,  and  the  Moravian  Protestants  ap- 
pear to  have  been  the  first  to  see  this  logical  consequence. 
The  Methodists  soon  followed  suit,  practically  if  not  dog- 
matically, and  a short  time  ere  his  death,  John  Wesley 
wrote  : — 

“ In  London  alone  I found  652  members  of  our  Society  who 
were  exceeding  clear  in  their  experience,  and  whose  testimony 
I could  see  no  reason  to  doubt.  And  every  one  of  these  (with- 
out a single  exception)  has  declared  that  his  deliverance  from 
sin  was  instantaneous  ; that  the  change  was  wrought  in  a mo- 
ment. Had  half  of  these,  or  one  third,  or  one  in  twenty,  de- 
clared it  was  gradually  wrought  in  them,  I should  have  believed 
this,  with  regard  to  them,  and  thought  that  some  were  gradually 
sanctified  and  some  instantaneously.  But  as  I have  not  found, 
in  so  long  a space  of  time,  a single  person  speaking  thus,  I can- 
not but  believe  that  sanctification  is  commonly,  if  not  always, 
an  instantaneous  work.”  Tyerman’s  Life  of  Wesley,  i.  468. 

All  this  while  the  more  usual  sects  of  Protestantism 
have  set  no  such  store  by  instantaneous  conversion.  For 
them  as  for  the  Catholic  Church,  Christ’s  blood,  the 
sacraments,  and  the  individual’s  ordinary  religious  duties 
are  practically  supposed  to  suffice  to  his  salvation,  even 
though  no  acute  crisis  of  self-despair  and  surrender  fol- 
lowed by  relief  should  be  experienced.  For  Methodism, 
on  the  contrary,  unless  there  have  been  a crisis  of  this 
sort,  salvation  is  only  offered,  not  effectively  received,  and 
Christ’s  sacrifice  in  so  far  forth  is  incomplete.  Methodism 
surely  here  follows,  if  not  the  healthier-minded,  yet  on 


228  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


the  whole  the  profounder  spiritual  instinct.  The  indi- 
vidual models  which  it  has  set  up  as  typical  and  worthy  of 
imitation  are  not  only  the  more  interesting  dramatically, 
but  psychologically  they  have  been  the  more  complete. 

In  the  fully  evolved  Revivalism  of  Great  Britain  and 
America  we  have,  so  to  speak,  the  codified  and  stereo- 
typed procedure  to  which  this  way  of  thinking  has  led. 
In  spite  of  the  unquestionable  fact  that  saints  of  the 
once-born  type  exist,  that  there  may  be  a gradual  growth 
in  holiness  without  a cataclysm ; in  spite  of  the  obvious 
leakage  (as  one  may  say)  of  much  mere  natural  goodness 
into  the  scheme  of  salvation ; revivalism  has  always  as- 
sumed that  only  its  own  type  of  religious  experience  can 
be  perfect ; you  must  first  be  nailed  on  the  cross  of 
natural  despair  and  agony,  and  then  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  be  miraculously  released. 

It  is  natural  that  those  who  personally  have  traversed 
such  an  experience  should  carry  away  a feeling  of  its 
being  a miracle  rather  than  a natural  process.  Voices 
are  often  heard,  lights  seen,  or  visions  witnessed  ; auto- 
matic motor  phenomena  occur ; and  it  always  seems,  after 
the  surrender  of  the  personal  will,  as  if  an  extraneous 
higher  power  had  flooded  in  and  taken  possession.  More- 
over the  sense  of  renovation,  safety,  cleanness,  rightness, 
can  be  so  marvelous  and  jubilant  as  well  to  warrant 
one’s  belief  in  a radically  new  substantial  nature. 

“ Conversion,”  writes  the  New  England  Puritan,  Joseph  Al- 
leine,  “ is  not  the  putting  in  a patch  of  holiness  ; but  with  the 
true  convert  holiness  is  woven  into  all  his  powers,  principles, 
and  practice.  The  sincere  Christian  is  quite  a new  fabric,  from 
the  foundation  to  the  top-stone.  He  is  a new  man,  a new 
creature.” 

And  Jonathan  Edwards  says  in  the  same  strain : “ Those 
gracious  influences  which  are  the  effects  of  the  Spirit  of  God 


CONVERSION 


229 


are  altogether  supernatural  — are  quite  different  from  anything 
that  unregenerate  men  experience.  They  are  what  no  improve- 
ment, or  composition  of  natural  qualifications  or  principles  will 
ever  produce  ; because  they  not  only  differ  from  what  is  natu- 
ral, and  from  everything  that  natural  men  experience  in  degree 
and  circumstances,  but  also  in  kind,  and  are  of  a nature  far 
more  excellent.  From  hence  it  follows  that  in  gracious  affec- 
tions there  are  [also]  new  perceptions  and  sensations  entirely 
different  in  their  nature  and  kind  from  anything  experienced 
by  the  [same]  saints  before  they  were  sanctified.  . . . The  con- 
ceptions which  the  saints  have  of  the  loveliness  of  God,  and 
that  kind  of  delight  which  they  experience  in  it,  are  quite  pe- 
culiar, and  entirely  different  from  anything  which  a natural 
man  can  possess,  or  of  which  he  can  form  any  proper  notion.” 

And  that  such  a glorious  transformation  as  this  ought 
of  necessity  to  be  preceded  by  despair  is  shown  by  Ed- 
wards in  another  passage. 

“ Surely  it  cannot  be  unreasonable,”  he  says,  “ that  before 
God  delivers  us  from  a state  of  sin  and  liability  to  everlast- 
ing woe,  he  should  give  us  some  considerable  sense  of  the  evil 
from  which  he  delivers  us,  in  order  that  we  may  know  and  feel 
the  importance  of  salvation,  and  be  enabled  to  appreciate  the 
value  of  what  God  is  pleased  to  do  for  us.  As  those  who  are 
saved  are  successively  in  two  extremely  different  states  — first 
in  a state  of  condemnation  and  then  in  a state  of  justification 
and  blessedness  — and  as  God,  in  the  salvation  of  men,  deals 
with  them  as  rational  and  intelligent  creatures,  it  appears 
agreeable  to  this  wisdom,  that  those  who  are  saved  should  be 
made  sensible  of  their  Being,  in  those  two  different  states.  In 
the  first  place,  that  they  should  be  made  sensible  of  their  state 
of  condemnation  ; and  afterwards,  of  their  state  of  deliverance 
and  happiness.” 

Such  quotations  express  sufficiently  well  for  our  pur- 
pose the  doctrinal  interpretation  of  these  changes.  What- 
ever part  suggestion  and  imitation  may  have  played  in 
producing  them  in  men  and  women  in  excited  assemblies, 


230  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

they  have  at  any  rate  been  in  countless  individual  in- 
stances  an  original  and  unborrowed  experience.  Were 
we  writing  the  story  of  the  mind  from  the  purely  natural- 
history  point  of  view,  with  no  religious  interest  whatever, 
we  should  still  have  to  write  down  man’s  liability  to  sud- 
den and  complete  conversion  as  one  of  his  most  curious 
peculiarities. 

What,  now,  must  we  ourselves  think  of  this  question  ? 
Is  an  instantaneous  conversion  a miracle  in  which  God  is 
present  as  he  is  present  in  no  change  of  heart  less  strik- 
ingly abrupt  ? Are  there  two  classes  of  human  beings, 
even  among  the  apparently  regenerate,  of  which  the  one 
class  really  partakes  of  Christ’s  nature  while  the  other 
merely  seems  to  do  so  ? Or,  on  the  contrary,  may  the 
whole  phenomenon  of  regeneration,  even  in  these  star- 
tling instantaneous  examples,  possibly  be  a strictly  natural 
process,  divine  in  its  fruits,  of  course,  but  in  one  case 
more  and  in  another  less  so,  and  neither  more  nor  less  di- 
vine in  its  mere  causation  and  mechanism  than  any  other 
process,  high  or  low,  of  man’s  interior  hfe  ? 

Before  proceeding  to  answer  this  question,  I must  ask 
you  to  listen  to  some  more  psychological  remarks.  At 
our  last  lecture,  I explained  the  shifting  of  men’s  centres 
of  personal  energy  within  them  and  the  lighting  up  of 
new  crises  of  emotion.  I explained  the  phenomena  as 
partly  due  to  explicitly  conscious  processes  of  thought 
and  will,  but  as  due  largely  also  to  the  subconscious  incu- 
bation and  maturing  of  motives  deposited  by  the  experi- 
ences of  life.  When  ripe,  the  results  hatch  out,  or  burst 
into  flower.  I have  now  to  speak  of  the  subconscious 
region,  in  which  such  processes  of  flowering  may  occur, 
in  a somewhat  less  vague  way.  I only  regret  that  my 
hmits  of  time  here  force  me  to  be  so  short. 


CONVERSION 


231 


The  expression  ‘ field  of  consciousness  ’ has  but  re- 
cently come  into  vogue  in  the  psychology  books.  Until 
quite  lately  the  unit  of  mental  life  which  figured  most 
was  the  single  ‘ idea/  supposed  to  be  a definitely  out- 
lined thing.  But  at  present  psychologists  are  tending, 
first,  to  admit  that  the  actual  unit  is  more  probably  the 
total  mental  state,  the  entire  wave  of  consciousness  or 
field  of  objects  present  to  the  thought  at  any  time;  and, 
second,  to  see  that  it  is  impossible  to  outline  this  wave, 
this  field,  with  any  definiteness. 

As  our  mental  fields  succeed  one  another,  each  has  its 
centre  of  interest,  around  which  the  objects  of  which  we 
are  less  and  less  attentively  conscious  fade  to  a margin  so 
faint  that  its  limits  are  unassignable.  Some  fields  are 
narrow  fields  and  some  are  wide  fields.  Usually  when 
we  have  a wide  field  we  rejoice,  for  we  then  see  masses 
of  truth  together,  and  often  get  glimpses  of  relations 
which  we  divine  rather  than  see,  for  they  shoot  beyond 
the  field  into  still  remoter  regions  of  objectivity,  regions 
which  we  seem  rather  to  be  about  to  perceive  than  to  per- 
ceive actually.  At  other  times,  of  drowsiness,  illness,  or 
fatigue,  our  fields  may  narrow  almost  to  a point,  and  we 
find  ourselves  correspondingly  oppressed  and  contracted. 

Different  individuals  present  constitutional  differences 
in  this  matter  of  width  of  field.  Your  great  organizing 
geniuses  are  men  with  habitually  vast  fields  of  mental 
vision,  in  which  a whole  programme  of  future  operations 
will  appear  dotted  out  at  once,  the  rays  shooting  far 
ahead  into  definite  directions  of  advance.  In  common 
people  there  is  never  this  magnificent  inclusive  view  of  a 
topic.  They  stumble  along,  feeling  their  way,  as  it  were, 
from  point  to  point,  and  often  stop  entirely.  In  certain 
diseased  conditions  consciousness  is  a mere  spark,  without 
memory  of  the  past  or  thought  of  the  future,  and  with  the 


232  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


present  narrowed  down  to  some  one  simple  emotion  oi 
sensation  of  the  body. 

The  important  fact  which  this  ‘ field  ’ formula  com- 
memorates is  the  indetermination  of  the  margin.  Inat- 
tentively realized  as  is  the  matter  which  the  margin  con- 
tains, it  is  nevertheless  there,  and  helps  both  to  guide  our 
behavior  and  to  determine  the  next  movement  of  our  at- 
tention. It  lies  around  us  like  a ‘ magnetic  field,’  inside 
of  which  our  centre  of  energy  turns  like  a compass-needle, 
as  the  present  phase  of  consciousness  alters  into  its  suc- 
cessor. Our  whole  past  store  of  memories  floats  beyond 
this  margin,  ready  at  a touch  to  come  in  ; and  the  entire 
mass  of  residual  powers,  impulses,  and  knowledges  that 
constitute  our  empirical  self  stretches  continuously  be- 
yond it.  So  vaguely  drawn  are  the  outlines  between 
what  is  actual  and  what  is  only  potential  at  any  moment 
of  our  conscious  life,  that  it  is  always  hard  to  say  of 
certain  mental  elements  whether  we  are  conscious  of 
them  or  not. 

The  ordinary  psychology,  admitting  fully  the  difficulty 
of  tracing  the  marginal  outline,  has  nevertheless  taken 
for  granted,  first,  that  all  the  consciousness  the  person 
now  has,  be  the  same  focal  or  marginal,  inattentive  or  at- 
tentive, is  there  in  the  ‘ field  ’ of  the  moment,  all  dim  and 
impossible  to  assign  as  the  latter’s  outline  may  be ; and, 
second,  that  what  is  absolutely  extra-marginal  is  abso- 
lutely non-existent,  and  cannot  be  a fact  of  consciousness 
at  all. 

And  having  reached  this  point,  I must  now  ask  you 
to  recall  what  I said  in  my  last  lecture  about  the  subcon- 
scious life.  I said,  as  you  may  recollect,  that  those  who 
first  laid  stress  upon  these  phenomena  could  not  know 
the  facts  as  we  now  know  them.  My  first  duty  now  is  to 
tell  you  what  I meant  by  such  a statement. 


CONVERSION 


233 


I cannot  but  think  that  the  most  important  step  for- 
ward that  has  occurred  in  psychology  since  I have  been 
a student  of  that  science  is  the  discovery,  first  made  in 
1886,  that,  in  certain  subjects  at  least,  there  is  not  only 
the  consciousness  of  the  ordinary  field,  with  its  usual 
centre  and  margin,  but  an  addition  thereto  in  the  shape 
of  a set  of  memories,  thoughts,  and  feelings  which  are 
extra-marginal  and  outside  of  the  primary  consciousness 
altogether,  but  yet  must  be  classed  as  conscious  facts  of 
some  sort,  able  to  reveal  their  presence  by  unmistakable 
signs.  I call  this  the  most  important  step  forward  because, 
unlike  the  other  advances  which  psychology  has  made,  this 
discovery  has  revealed  to  us  an  entirely  unsuspected  pe- 
culiarity in  the  constitution  of  human  nature.  No  other 
step  forward  which  psychology  has  made  can  proffer  any 
iuch  claim  as  this. 

In  particular  this  discovery  of  a consciousness  existing 
beyond  the  field,  or  subliminally  as  Mr.  Myers  terms  it, 
casts  light  on  many  phenomena  of  religious  biography. 
That  is  why  I have  to  advert  to  it  now,  although  it  is 
naturally  impossible  for  me  in  this  place  to  give  you  any 
account  of  the  evidence  on  which  the  admission  of  such 
a consciousness  is  based.  You  will  find  it  set  forth  in 
many  recent  books,  Binet’s  Alterations  of  Personality  ^ 
being  perhaps  as  good  a one  as  any  to  recommend. 

The  human  material  on  which  the  demonstration  has 
been  made  has  so  far  been  rather  limited  and,  in  part  at 
least,  eccentric,  consisting  of  unusually  suggestible  hyp- 
notic subjects,  and  of  hysteric  patients.  Yet  the  elemen- 
tary mechanisms  of  our  life  are  presumably  so  uniform 
that  what  is  shown  to  be  true  in  a marked  degree  of  some 
persons  is  probably  true  in  some  degree  of  all,  and  may 
in  a few  be  true  in  an  extraordinarily  high  degree. 

* Published  in  the  International  Scientific  Series. 


234  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXFERIEJMCE 

The  most  important  consequence  of  having  a strongly 
developed  ultra-marginal  life  of  this  sort  is  that  one’s 
ordinary  fields  of  consciousness  are  liable  to  incursions 
from  it  of  which  the  subject  does  not  guess  the  source, 
and  which,  therefore,  take  for  him  the  form  of  unaccount- 
able impulses  to  act,  or  inhibitions  of  action,  of  obsessive 
ideas,  or  even  of  hallucinations  of  sight  or  hearing.  The 
impulses  may  take  the  direction  of  automatic  speech  or 
writing,  the  meaning  of  which  the  subject  himself  may 
not  understand  even  while  he  utters  it ; and  generalizing 
this  phenomenon,  Mr.  Myers  has  given  the  name  of  au- 
tomatism^ sensory  or  motor,  emotional  or  intellectual,  to 
this  whole  sphere  of  effects,  due  to  ‘ uprushes  ’ into  the 
ordinary  consciousness  of  energies  originating  in  the  sub- 
liminal parts  of  the  mind. 

The  simplest  instance  of  an  automatism  is  the  phenom- 
enon of  post-hypnotic  suggestion,  so-called.  You  give  to 
a hypnotized  subject,  adequately  susceptible,  an  order  to 
perform  some  designated  act  — usual  or  eccentric,  it 
makes  no  difference  — after  he  wakes  from  his  hypnotic 
sleep.  Punctually,  when  the  signal  comes  or  the  time 
elapses  upon  which  you  have  told  him  that  the  act  must 
ensue,  he  performs  it ; — but  in  so  doing  he  has  no  recol- 
lection of  your  suggestion,  and  he  always  trumps  up  an 
improvised  pretext  for  his  behavior  if  the  act  be  of  an 
eccentric  kind.  It  may  even  be  suggested  to  a subject  to 
have  a vision  or  to  hear  a voice  at  a certain  interval  after 
waking,  and  when  the  time  comes  the  vision  is  seen  or 
the  voice  heard,  with  no  inkling  on  the  subject’s  part 
of  its  source.  In  the  wonderful  explorations  by  Binet, 
Janet,  Breuer,  Freud,  Mason,  Prince,  and  others,  o^  the 
subliminal  consciousness  of  patients  with  hysteria,  we 
have  revealed  to  us  whole  systems  of  underground  life, 
in  the  shape  of  memories  of  a painful  sort  which  lead  a 


CONVERSION 


235 


I 

I parasitic  existence,  buried  outside  of  the  primary  fields  of 
I consciousness,  and  making  irruptionc  thereinto  with  hallu- 
i cinations,  pains,  convulsions,  paralyses  of  feeling  and  of 
! motion,  and  the  whole  procession  of  symptoms  of  hysteric 
i disease  of  body  and  of  mind.  Alter  or  abohsh  by  sug- 
gestion these  subconscious  memories,  and  the  patient  im- 
mediately gets  well.  His  symptoms  were  automatisms,  in 
I Mr.  Myers’s  sense  of  the  word.  These  clinical  records 
sound  like  fairy-tales  when  one  first  reads  them,  yet  it  is 
impossible  to  doubt  their  accuracy ; and,  the  path  having 
been  once  opened  by  these  first  observers,  similar  obser- 
vations have  been  made  elsewhere.  They  throw,  as  I 
' said,  a wholly  new  light  upon  our  natural  constitution. 

And  it  seems  to  me  that  they  make  a farther  step  inev- 
itable. Interpreting  the  unknown  after  the  analogy  of 
;the  known,  it  seems  to  me  that  hereafter,  wherever  we 
meet  with  a phenomenon  of  automatism,  be  it  motor 
! impulses,  or  obsessive  idea,  or  unaccountable  caprice,  or 
delusion,  or  hallucination,  we  are  bound  first  of  all  to 
make  search  whether  it  be  not  an  explosion,  into  the 
I fields  of  ordinary  consciousness,  of  ideas  elaborated  outside 
'of  those  fields  in  subliminal  regions  of  the  mind.  We 
should  look,  therefore,  for  its  source  in  the  Subject’s  sub- 
conscious life.  In  the  hypnotic  cases,  we  ourselves  create 
the  source  by  our  suggestion,  so  we  know  it  directly.  In 
the  hysteric  cases,  the  lost  memories  which  are  the  source 
have  to  be  extracted  from  the  patient’s  Subliminal  by  a 
I number  of  ingenious  methods,  for  an  account  of  which 
j you  must  consult  the  books.  In  other  pathological  cases, 

I insane  delusions,  for  example,  or  psychopathic  obsessions, 

I the  source  is  yet  to  seek,  but  by  analogy  it  also  should 
I be  in  subliminal  regions  which  improvements  in  our 
; methods  may  yet  conceivably  put  on  tap.  There  lies  the 
! mechanism  logically  to  be  assumed,  — but  the  assumption 


236  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


involves  a vast  program  of  work  to  be  done  in  the  way 
of  verification,  in  which  the  religious  experiences  of  man 
must  play  their  partd 

And  thus  I return  to  our  own  specific  subject  of  in- 
stantaneous conversions.  You  remember  the  cases  of 
Alline,  Bradley,  Brainerd,  and  the  graduate  of  Oxford 
converted  at  three  in  the  afternoon.  Similar  occurrences 
abound,  some  with  and  some  without  luminous  visions, 
all  with  a sense  of  astonished  happiness,  and  of  being 
wrought  on  by  a higher  control.  If,  abstracting  alto- 
gether from  the  question  of  their  value  for  the  future 
spiritual  life  of  the  individual,  we  take  them  on  their  psy- 

1 The  reader  will  here  please  notice  that  in  iny  exclusive  reliance  in  the 
last  leetui'e  on  the  subconscious  ‘ incubation  ’ of  motives  deposited  by  a 
growing  experience,  I followed  the  method  of  employing  accepted  princi- 
ples of  explanation  as  far  as  one  can.  The  subliminal  region,  whatever  else 
it  may  be,  is  at  any  rate  a place  now  admitted  by  psychologists  to  exist  for 
the  accumulation  of  vestiges  of  sensible  experience  (whether  inattentively 
or  attentively  registered),  and  for  their  elaboration  according  to  ordinary 
psychological  or  logical  laws  into  results  that  end  by  attaining  such  a ‘ ten- 
sion’ that  they  may  at  times  enter  consciousness  with  something  like  a burst. 
It  thus  is  ‘ scientific  ’ to  interpret  all  otherwise  unaccountable  invasive  altera- 
tions of  consciousness  as  results  of  the  tension  of  subliminal  memories  reach- 
ing the  bursting-point.  But  candor  obliges  me  to  confess  that  there  are 
occasional  bursts  into  consciousness  of  results  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
demonstrate  any  prolonged  subconscious  incubation.  Some  of  the  cases  I 
used  to  illustrate  the  sense  of  presence  of  the  unseen  in  Lecture  III  were  of 
this  order  (compare  pages  59,  61,  62,  67)  ; and  we  shall  see  other  experiences 
of  the  kind  when  we  come  to  the  subject  of  mysticism.  The  case  of  Mr. 
Bradley,  that  of  M.  Ratisbonne,  possibly  that  of  Colonel  Gardiner,  possibly 
that  of  Saint  Paul,  might  not  be  so  easily  explained  in  this  simple  way. 
The  result,  then,  would  have  to  be  ascribed  either  to  a merely  physiological 
nerve  storm,  a ‘ discharging  lesion  ’ like  that  of  epilepsy  ; or,  in  case  it 
were  useful  and  rational,  as  in  the  two  latter  cases  named,  to  some  more 
mystical  or  theological  hypothesis.  I make  this  remark  in  order  that  the 
reader  may  realize  that  the  subject  is  really  complex.  But  I shall  keep 
myself  as  far  as  possible  at  present  to  the  more  ‘scientific  ’ view;  and  only 
as  the  plot  thickens  in  subsequent  lectures  shall  I consider  the  question  of 
its  absolute  sufficiency  as  an  explanation  of  all  the  facts.  That  subconscious 
incubation  explains  a great  number  of  them,  there  can  be  no  doubt. 


CONVERSION 


237 


chological  side  exclusively,  so  many  peculiarities  in  them 
remind  us  of  what  we  find  outside  of  conversion  that  we 
are  tempted  to  class  them  along’  with  other  automatisms, 
and  to  suspect  that  what  makes  the  difference  between  a 
sudden  and  a gradual  convert  is  not  necessarily  the  pre- 
sence of  divine  miracle  in  the  case  of  one  and  of  some- 
thing less  divine  in  that  of  the  other,  but  rather  a simple 
psychological  peculiarity,  the  fact,  namely,  that  in  the  re- 
cipient of  the  more  instantaneous  grace  we  have  one  of 
those  Subjects  who  are  in  possession  of  a large  region  in 
which  mental  work  can  go  on  subliminally,  and  from 
which  invasive  experiences,  abruptly  upsetting  the  equilib- 
rium of  the  primary  consciousness,  may  come. 

I do  not  see  why  Methodists  need  object  to  such  a 
view.  Pray  go  back  and  recollect  one  of  the  conclusions 
to  which  I sought  to  lead  you  in  my  very  first  lecture. 
You  may  remember  how  I there  argued  against  the  no- 
tion that  the  worth  of  a thing  can  be  decided  by  its 
origin.  Our  spiritual  judgment,  I said,  our  opinion  of 
the  significance  and  value  of  a human  event  or  condition, 
must  be  decided  on  empirical  grounds  exclusively.  If 
the  fruits  for  life  of  the  state  of  conversion  are  good, 
we  ought  to  ideahze  and  venerate  it,  even  though  it  be 
a piece  of  natural  psychology ; if  not,  we  ought  to  make 
short  work  with  it,  no  matter  what  supernatural  being 
may  have  infused  it. 

W ell,  how  is  it  with  these  fruits  ? If  we  except  the 
class  of  preeminent  saints  of  whom  the  names  illumine 
history,  and  consider  only  the  usual  run  of  ^ saints,’  the 
; shopkeeping  church-members  and  ordinary  youthful  or 
middle-aged  recipients  of  instantaneous  conversion, 

I whether  at  revivals  or  in  the  spontaneous  course  of  meth- 
i odistic  growth,  you  will  probably  agree  that  no  splendor 
I worthy  of  a wholly  supernatural  creature  fulgurates  from 


238  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


them,  or  sets  them  apart  from  the  mortals  who  have  nevei 
experienced  that  favor.  Were  it  true  that  a suddenly 
converted  man  as  such  is,  as  Edwards  says,^  of  an  en- 
tirely different  kind  from  a natural  man,  partaking  as  he 
does  directly  of  Christ’s  substance,  there  surely  ought  to 
be  some  exquisite  class-mark,  some  distinctive  radiance 
attaching  even  to  the  lowliest  specimen  of  this  genus,  to 
which  no  one  of  us  could  remain  insensible,  and  which, 
so  far  as  it  went,  would  prove  him  more  excellent  than 
ever  the  most  highly  gifted  among  mere  natural  men. 
But  notoriously  there  is  no  such  radiance.  Converted 
men  as  a class  are  indistinguishable  from  natural  men  j 
some  natural  men  even  excel  some  converted  men  in 
their  fruits ; and  no  one  ignorant  of  doctrinal  theology 
could  guess  by  mere  every-day  inspection  of  the  ‘ acci- 
dents ’ of  the  two  groups  of  persons  before  him,  that 
their  substance  differed  as  much  as  divine  differs  from 
human  substance. 

The  believers  in  the  non-natural  character  of  sudden 
conversion  have  had  practically  to  admit  that  there  is  no 
unmistakable  class-mark  distinctive  of  all  true  converts. 
The  super-normal  incidents,  such  as  voices  and  visions 
and  overpowering  impressions  of  the  meaning  of  sud- 
denly presented  scripture  texts,  the  melting  emotions  and 
tumultuous  affections  connected  with  the  crisis  of  change, 
may  all  come  by  way  of  nature,  or  worse  still,  be  counter- 
feited by  Satan.  The  real  witness  of  the  spirit  to  the 
second  birth  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  disposition  of 
the  genuine  child  of  God,  the  permanently  patient  heart, 
the  love  of  self  eradicated.  And  this,  it  has  to  be  ad- 

^ Edwards  says  elsewhere  : “ I am  bold  to  say  that  the  work  of  God  in 
the  conversion  of  one  soul,  considered  together  with  the  source,  foundation, 
and  purchase  of  it,  and  also  the  benefit,  end,  and  eternal  issue  of  it,  is  a 
more  glorious  work  of  God  than  the  creation  of  the  whole  material  uni- 
veree.” 


CONVERSION 


239 


mitted,  is  also  found  in  those  who  pass  no  crisis,  and  may 
even  he  found  outside  of  Christianity  altogether. 

Throughout  Jonathan  Edwards’s  admirably  rich  and 
dehcate  description  of  the  supernaturaUy  infused  condi- 
tion, in  his  Treatise  on  Religious  Affections,  there  is  not 
one  decisive  trait,  not  one  mark,  that  unmistakably  parts 
it  off  from  what  may  possibly  be  only  an  exceptionally 
high  degree  of  natural  goodness.  In  fact,  one  could 
hardly  read  a clearer  argument  than  this  book  unwit- 
tingly offers  in  favor  of  the  thesis  that  no  chasm  exists 
between  the  orders  of  human  excellence,  but  that  here  as 
elsewhere,  nature  shows  continuous  differences,  and  gen- 
eration and  regeneration  are  matters  of  degree. 

All  which  denial  of  two  objective  classes  of  human 
beings  separated  by  a chasm  must  not  leave  us  blind  to 
the  extraordinary  momentousness  of  the  fact  of  his  con- 
version to  the  individual  himself  who  gets  converted. 
There  are  higher  and  lower  limits  of  possibihty  set  to 
each  personal  life.  If ^ flood  but^oes  above_pne!s-^liead, 
its  absolute  elevation  becomes  a matter  of  small  impor- 
tance ; and  when  we  touch  our  own  upper  limit  and  live  ,, 
in  our  own  highest  centre  of  energy,  we^rnaj  call  our- 
selves  saved,  no  matter  how  jnucb  higher^some^e  else’s 
centre_j(iay  be^  A small  man’s  salvation  will  always  be^ 
a great  salvation  and  the  greatest  of  all  facts  for  him, 
jmd  we  should  remember  this  when  the  fruits  of  our  ordi- 
nary evangelicism  look  discouraging.  Who  knows  how 
I much  less  ideal  still  the  lives  of  these  spiritual  grubs  and 
I earthworms,  these  Crumps  and  Stigginses,  might  have 
been,  if  such  poor  grace  as  they  have  received  had  never 
touched  them  at  all  ? ^ 


1 Emerson  writes  : “ When  we  see  a soul  whose  acts  are  regal,  graceful, 
and  pleasant  as  roses,  we  must  thank  God  that  such  things  can  be  and  are, 
hand  not  turn  sourly  on  the  angel  and  say  : Crump  is  a better  man,  with  his 
|grunting  resistance  to  all  his  native  devils.”  True  enough.  Yet  Crump 


240  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


If  we  roughly  arrange  human  beings  in  classes,  each 
class  standing  for  a grade  of  spiritual  excellence,  I be- 
lieve we  shall  find  natural  men  and  converts  both  sud- 
den and  gradual  in  all  the  classes.  The  forms  which 
regenerative  change  effects  have,  then,  no  general  spirit- 
ual significance,  but  only  a psychological  significance. 
We  have  seen  how  Starbuck’s  laborious  statistical  studies 
tend  to  assimilate  conversion  to  ordinary  spiritual  growth. 
Another  American  psychologist,  Prof.  George  A.  Coe,^  has 
analyzed  the  cases  of  seventy-seven  converts  or  ex-can- 
didates for  conversion,  known  to  him,  and  the  results 
strikingly  confii’m  the  view  that  sudden  conversion  is 
connected  with  the  possession  of  an  active  subliminal  self. 
Examining  his  subjects  with  reference  to  their  hypnotic 
sensibility  and  to  such  automatisms  as  hypnagogic  hallu- 
cinations, odd  impulses,  religious  dreams  about  the  time 
of  their  conversion,  etc.,  he  found  these  relatively  much 
more  frequent  in  the  group  of  converts  whose  transforma- 
tion had  been  ^ striking,’  ‘ striking  ’ transformation  being 
defined  as  a change  which,  though  not  necessarily  in- 
stantaneous, seems  to  the  subject  of  it  to  be  distinctly 
different  from  a process  of  growth,  however  rapid.”  ^ 
Candidates  for  conversion  at  revivals  are,  as  you  know, 
often  disappointed : they  experience  nothing  striking. 
Professor  Coe  had  a number  of  persons  of  this  class  among 
his  seventy-seven  subjects,  and  they  almost  all,  when  tested 
by  hypnotism,  proved  to  belong  to  a subclass  which  he 

may  really  be  the  better  Crump,  for  his  inner  discords  and  second  birth  ; 
and  your  once-born  ‘ regal  ’ character,  though  indeed  always  better  than 
poor  Crump,  may  fall  far  short  of  what  he  individually  might  be  had  he 
only  some  Crump-like  capacity  for  compunction  over  his  own  peculiar 
diabolisms,  graceful  and  pleasant  and  invariably  gentlemanly  as  these 
may  be. 

1 In  his  book.  The  Spiritual  Life,  New  York,  1900. 

® Op.  cit.,  p.  112. 


CONVERSION 


241 


calls  ‘ spontaneous/  that  is,  fertile  in  self-suggestions,  as 
distinguished  from  a ‘ passive  ’ subclass,  to  which  most  of 
the  subjects  of  striking  transformation  belonged.  His 
inference  is  that  self-suggestion  of  impossibility  had  pre- 
vented the  influence  upon  these  persons  of  an  environ- 
ment which,  on  the  more  ‘ passive  ’ subjects,  had  easily 
brought  forth  the  effects  they  looked  for.  Sharp  distinc- 
tions are  difficult  in  these  regions,  and  Professor  Coe’s 
numbers  are  small.  But  his  methods  were  careful,  and 
the  results  tally  with  what  one  might  expect ; and  they 
seem,  on  the  whole,  to  justify  his  practical  conclusion, 
which  is  that  if  you  should  expose  to  a converting  influ- 
ence a subject  in  whom  three  factors  unite  : first,  pro- 
nounced emotional  sensibility  ; second,  tendency  to  auto-  ^ 
matisms  ; and  third,  suggestibility  of  the  passive  type  ; 
you  might  then  safely  predict  the  result : there  would  be 
a sudden  conversion,  a transformation  of  the  striking  kind. 

Does  this  temperamental  origin  diminish  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  sudden  conversion  when  it  has  occurred  ? 
Not  in  the  least,  as  Professor  Coe  well  says  ; for  ‘‘  the 
ultimate  test  of  religious  values  is  nothing  psychologi- 
cal, nothing  definable  in  terms  of  kow  it  hapjpens.  but 
something  ethical,  definable  only  in  terms  of  what  is 
attained”  ^ 

As  we  proceed  farther  in  our  inquiry  we  shall  see  that 
what  is  attained  is  often  an  altogether  new  level  of  spir- 
itual vitality,  a relatively  heroic  level,  in  which  impos- 
sible things  have  become  possible,  and  new  energies  and 
endurances  are  shown.  The  personality  is  changed, 
the  man  is  born  anew,  whether  or  not  his  psychological  i 
idiosyncrasies  are  what  give  the  particular  shape  to  his 
metamorphosis.  ‘ Sanctification  ’ is  the  technical  name 
of  this  result ; and  erelong  examples  of  it  shall  he  brought 
^ Op.  eit.,  p.  144. 


242  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


before  you.  In  this  lecture  I have  still  only  to  add  a few 
remarks  on  the  assurance  and  peace  which  fill  the  hour  of 
change  itself. 

One  word  more,  though,  before  proceeding  to  that 
point,  lest  the  final  purpose  of  my  explanation  of  sudden- 
ness by  subliminal  activity  be  misunderstood.  I do  in- 
deed believe  that  if  the  Subject  have  no  liability  to  such 
subconscious  activity,  or  if  his  conscious  fields  have  a 
hard  rind  of  a margin  that  resists  incursions  from  be- 
yond it,  his  conversion  must  be  gradual  if  it  occur,  and 
must  resemble  any  simple  growth  into  new  habits.  His 
possession  of  a developed  subliminal  self,  and  of  a leaky 
or  pervious  margin,  is  thus  a conditio  sine  qua  non  of 
the  Subject’s  becoming  converted  in  the  instantaneous 
way.  But  if  you,  being  orthodox  Christians,  ask  me  as 
a psychologist  whether  the  reference  of  a phenomenon 
to  a subliminal  self  does  not  exclude  the  notion  of  the 
direct  presence  of  the  Deity  altogether,  I have  to  say 
frankly  that  as  a psychologist  I do  not  see  why  it  neces- 
sarily should.  The  lower  manifestations  of  the  Sub- 
Hminal,  indeed,  faU  within  the  resources  of  the  personal 
subject : his  ordinary  sense-material,  inattentively  taken 
in  and  subconsciously  remembered  and  combined,  will 
account  for  all  his  usual  automatisms.  But  just  as  our 
prnnary  wide-awake  consciousness  throws  open  our  senses 
to  the  touch  of  things  material,  so  it  is  logically  con- 
ceivable that  if  there  he  higher  spiritual  agencies  that  can 
directly  touch  us,  the  psychological  condition  of  their 
doing  so  might  he  our  possession  of  a subconscious  region 
which  alone  should  yield  access  to  them.  The  hubbub  of 
the  waking  life  might  close  a door  which  in  the  dreamy 
Subliminal  might  remain  ajar  or  open. 

Thus  that  perception  of  external  control  which  is  so 


CONVERSION 


243 


essential  a feature  in  conversion  might,  in  some  eases  at 
any  rate,  be  interpreted  as  the  orthodox  interpret  it : 
forces  transcending  the  finite  individual  might  impress 
him,  on  condition  of  his  being  what  we  may  call  a sub- 
liminal human  specimen.  But  in  any  case  the  value  of 
these  forces  would  have  to  be  determined  by  their  effects, 
and  the  mere  fact  of  their  transcendency  would  of  itself 
establish  no  presumption  that  they  were  more  divine  than 
diabohcal. 

I confess  that  this  is  the  way  in  which  I should  rather 
see  the  topic  left  lying  in  your  minds  until  I come  to 
a much  later  lecture,  when  I hope  once  more  to  gather 
these  dropped  threads  together  into  more  definitive  con- 
clusions. The  notion  of  a subconscious  self  certainly 
ought  not  at  this  point  of  our  inquiry  to  be  held  to 
exclude  all  notion  of  a higher  penetration.  If  there  be 
higher  powers  able  to  impress  us,  they  may  get  access  to  us 
only  through  the  subliminal  door.  (See  below,  p.  515  ff.) 

Let  us  turn  now  to  the  feelings  which  immediately  fill 
the  hour  of  the  conversion  experience.  The  first  one  to 
be  noted  is  just  this  sense  of  higher  control.  It  is  not 
always,  but  it  is  very  often  present.  W e saw  examples  of 
it  in  AUine,  Bradley,  Brainerd,  and  elsewhere.  The  need 
of  such  a higher  controlling  agency  is  well  expressed  in 
the  short  reference  which  the  eminent  French  Protestant 
Adolphe  Monod  makes  to  the  crisis  of  his  own  con- 
version. It  was  at  Naples  in  his  early  manhood,  in  the 
summer  of  1827. 

“ My  sadness,”  he  says,  “ was  without  limit,  and  having  got 
entire  possession  of  me,  it  filled  my  life  from  the  most  indiffer- 
ent external  acts  to  the  most  secret  thoughts,  and  corrupted  at 
their  source  my  feelings,  my  judgment,  and  my  happiness.  It 
was  then  that  I saw  that  to  expect  to  put  a stop  to  this  disorder 


m THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


by  my  reason  and  my  will,  which  were  themselves  diseased, 
would  be  to  act  lihe  a blind  man  who  should  pretend  to  correct 
one  of  his  eyes  by  the  aid  of  the  other  equally  blind  one.  I had 
then  no  resource  save  in  some  influence  from  without.  I re- 
membered the  promise  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; and  what  the  positive 
declarations  of  the  Gospel  had  never  succeeded  in  bringing 
home  to  me,  I learned  at  last  from  necessity,  and  believed,  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life,  in  this  promise,  in  the  only  sense  in 
which  it  answered  the  needs  of  my  soul,  in  that,  namely,  of  a 
real  external  supernatural  action,  capable  of  giving  me  thoughts, 
and  taking  them  away  from  me,  and  exerted  on  me  by  a God 
as  truly  master  of  my  heart  as  he  is  of  the  rest  of  nature.  Re- 
nouncing then  all  merit,  all  strength,  abandoning  all  my  per- 
sonal resources,  and  acknowledging  no  other  title  to  his  mercy 
than  my  own  utter  misery,  I went  home  and  threw  myself  on 
my  knees,  and  prayed  as  I never  yet  prayed  in  my  life.  From 
this  day  onwards  a new  interior  life  began  for  me : not  that 
my  melancholy  had  disappeared,  but  it  had  lost  its  sting. 
Hope  had  entered  into  my  heart,  and  once  entered  on  the  path, 
the  God  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  whom  I then  had  learned  to  give 
myself  up,  little  by  little  did  the  rest.”  ^ 

It  is  needless  to  remind  you  once  more  of  the  admira- 
ble congruity  of  Protestant  theology  with  the  structure 
of  the  mind  as  shown  in  such  experiences.  In  the  ex- 
treme of  melancholy  the  self  that  consciously  is  can  do 
absolutely  nothing.  It  is  completely  bankrupt  and  with- 
out resource,  and  no  works  it  can  accomplish  will  avail. 
Redemption  from  such  subjective  conditions  must  be  a 
free  gift  or  nothing,  and  grace  through  Christ’s  accom- 
plished sacrifice  is  such  a gift. 

“ God,”  says  Luther,  “ is  the  God  of  the  humble,  the  miser- 
able, the  oppressed,  and  the  desperate,  and  of  those  that  are 
brought  even  to  nothing ; and  his  nature  is  to  give  sight  to  the 

' I piece  together  a quotation  made  by  W.  Monod,  in  his  book  la  Vie, 
and  a letter  printed  in  the  work  : Adolphe  Monod  : I.,  Souvenirs  de  sa  Vie^ 
1885,  p.  433. 


I 


CONVERSION 


245 


i blind,  to  comfort  the  broken-hearted,  to  justify  sinners,  to  save 
the  very  desperate  and  damned.  Now  that  pernicious  and 
j pestilent  opinion  of  man’s  own  righteousness,  which  will  not  be 
[ a sinner,  unclean,  miserable,  and  damnable,  but  righteous  and 
I holy,  suffereth  not  God  to  come  to  his  own  natural  and  proper 
work.  Therefore  God  must  take  this  maul  in  hand  (the  law,  1 
mean)  to  beat  in  pieces  and  bring  to  nothing  this  beast  with 
i her  vain  confidence,  that  she  may  so  learn  at  length  by  her  own 
misery  that  she  is  utterly  forlorn  and  damned.  But  here  lieth 
the  difficulty,  that  when  a man  is  terrified  and  cast  down,  he  is 
so  little  able  to  raise  himself  up  again  and  say,  ‘ Now  I am 
bruised  and  afflicted  enough ; now  is  the  time  of  grace ; now  is 
the  time  to  hear  Christ.’  The  foolishness  of  man’s  heart  is  so 
great  that  then  he  rather  seeketh  to  himself  more  laws  to  satisfy 
his  conscience.  ‘ If  I live,’  saith  he,  ‘ I will  amend  my  life : I 
will  do  this,  I will  do  that.’  But  here,  except  thou  do  the  quite 
contrary,  except  thou  send  Moses  away  with  his  law,  and  in 
these  terrors  and  this  anguish  lay  hold  upon  Christ  who  died 
for  thy  sins,  look  for  no  salvation.  Thy  cowl,  thy  shaven 
crown,  thy  chastity,  thy  obedience,  thy  poverty,  thy  works,  thy 
merits  ? what  shall  all  these  do  ? what  shall  the  law  of  Moses 
avail?  If  I,  wretched  and  damnable  sinner,  through  works 
or  merits  could  have  loved  the  Son  of  God,  and  so  come  to 
him,  what  needed  he  to  deliver  himself  for  me?  If  I,  being  a 
wretch  and  damned  sinner,  could  be  redeemed  by  any  other 
price,  what  needed  the  Son  of  God  to  be  given  ? But  because 
there  was  no  other  price,  therefore  he  delivered  neither  sheep, 
ox,  gold,  nor  silver,  but  even  God  himself,  entirely  and  wholly 
‘ for  me,’  even  ‘ for  me,’  I say,  a miserable,  wretched  sinner. 
Now,  therefore,  I take  comfort  and  apply  this  to  my%elf.  And 
this  manner  of  applying  is  the  very  true  force  and  power 
of  faith.  For  he  died  not  to  justify  the  righteous,  but  the 
w?i-righteous,  and  to  make  them  the  children  of  God.”  ^ 

That  is,  the  more  literally  lost  you  are,  the  more  liter- 
ally you  are  the  very  being  whom  Christ’s  sacrifice  has 
already  saved.  Nothing  in  Catholic  theology,  I imagine, 

1 Commentary  on  Galatians,  ch.  iii.  verse  19,  and  ch.  ii.  verse  20,  abridged 


246  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


has  ever  spoken  to  sick  souls  as  straight  as  this  message 
from  Luther’s  personal  experience.  As  Protestants  are 
not  all  sick  souls,  of  course  reliance  on  what  Luther  ex- 
ults in  calling  the  dung  of  one’s  merits,  the  filthy  pud- 
dle of  one’s  own  righteousness,  has  come  to  the  front 
again  in  their  religion  ; but  the  adequacy  of  his  view  of 
Christianity  to  the  deeper  parts  of  our  human  mental 
structure  is  shown  by  its  wildfire  contagiousness  when  it 
was  a new  and  quickening  thing. 

Faith  that  Christ  has  genuinely  done  his  work  was 
part  of  what  Luther  meant  by  faith,  which  so  far  is  faith 
in  a fact  intellectually  conceived  of.  But  this  is  only 
one  part  of  Luther’s  faith,  the  other  part  being  far  more 
vital.  This  other  part  is  something  not  intellectual  but 
immediate  and  intuitive,  the  assurance,  namely,  that  I, 
this  individual  I,  just  as  I stand,  without  one  plea,  etc., 
am  saved  now  and  forever.^ 

Professor  Leuba  is  undoubtedly  right  in  contending 
that  the  conceptual  belief  about  Christ’s  work,  although 
so  often  efficacious  and  antecedent,  is  really  accessory  and 
non-essential,  and  that  the  ^ joyous  conviction  ’ can  also 

1 In  some  conversions,  both  steps  are  distinct  ; in  this  one,  for  exam' 
pie  : — 

“ Whilst  I was  reading  the  evangelical  treatise,  I was  soon  struck  by  an 
expression  : ‘ the  finished  work  of  Christ.’  ‘ Why,’  I asked  of  myself,  ‘ does 
the  author  use  these  terms  ? Why  does  he  not  say  “ the  atoning  work  ” ? ’ 
Then  these  words,  ‘ It  is  finished,’  presented  themselves  to  my  mind.  ‘ What 
is  it  that  is  finished  ? ’ I asked,  and  in  an  instant  my  mind  replied  : ‘ A per- 
fect expiation  for  sin  ; entire  satisfaction  has  been  given  ; the  debt  has 
been  paid  by  the  Substitute.  Christ  has  died  for  our  sins  ; not  for  ours 
only,  but  for  those  of  all  men.  If,  then,  the  entire  work  is  finished,  all  the 
debt  paid,  what  remains  for  me  to  do  ? ’ In  another  instant  the  light  was 
shed  through  my  mind  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  joyous  conviction  was 
given  me  that  nothing  more  was  to  be  done,  save  to  fall  on  my  knees, 
to  accept  this  Saviour  and  his  love,  to  praise  God  forever.”  Autobiogra- 
phy of  Hudson  Taylor.  I translate  back  into  English  from  the  French 
translation  of  Challand  (Geneva,  no  date),  the  original  not  being  acces» 
sible. 


CONVERSION 


241 


come  by  far  other  channels  than  this  conception.  It  is  to 
the  joyous  conviction  itself,  the  assurance  that  all  is  weU 
with  one,  that  he  would  give  the  name  of  faith  jpar 
excellence. 

“When  the  sense  of  estrangement,”  he  writes,  “fencing 
man  about  in  a narrowly  limited  ego,  breaks  down,  the  individ- 
ual finds  himself  ‘ at  one  with  all  creation.’  He  lives  in  the 
universal  life  ; he  and  man,  he  and  nature,  he  and  God,  are 
one.  That  state  of  confidence,  trust,  union  with  all  things, 
following  upon  the  achievement  of  moral  unity,  is  the  Faith- 
state.  Various  dogmatic  beliefs  suddenly,  on  the  advent  of 
the  faith-state,  acquire  a character  of  certainty,  assume  a new 
reality,  become  an  object  of  faith.  As  the  ground  of  assurance 
here  is  not  rational,  argumentation  is  irrelevant.  But  such 
conviction  being  a mere  casual  offshoot  of  the  faith-state,  it  is  a 
gross  error  to  imagine  that  the  chief  practical  value  of  the  faith- 
state  is  its  power  to  stamp  with  the  seal  of  reality  certain  par- 
ticular theological  conceptions.^  On  the  contrary,  its  value 
lies  solely  in  the  fact  that  it  is  the  psychic  correlate  of  a biolo- 
gical growth  reducing  contending  desires  to  one  direction  ; a 
growth  which  expresses  itself  in  new  affective  states  and  new 
reactions  ; in  larger,  nobler,  more  Christ-like  activities.  The 
ground  of  the  specific  assurance  in  religious  dogmas  is  then  an 
affective  experience.  The  objects  of  faith  may  even  be  prepos- 
terous; the  affective  stream  will  float  them  along,  and  invest 
them  with  unshakable  certitude.  The  more  startling  the  af- 
fective experience,  the  less  explicable  it  seems,  the  easier  it  is 
to  make  it  the  carrier  of  unsubstantiated  notions.”  ^ 

The  characteristics  of  the  affective  experience  which, 
to  avoid  ambiguity,  should,  I think,  be  called  the  state  of 
assurance  rather  than  the  faith-state,  can  be  easily  enu- 
merated, though  it  is  probably  difficult  to  realize  their 

^ Tolstoy’s  case  was  a good  comment  on  those  words.  There  was  almost 
no  theology  in  his  conversion.  His  faith-state  was  the  sense  come  back  that 
life  was  infinite  in  its  moral  significance. 

* American  Journal  of  Psychology,  vii.  345-347,  abridged. 


248  THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

intensity,  unless  one  have  been  through  the  experience 
one’s  self. 

The  central  one  is  the  loss  of  all  the  worry,  the  sense 
that  all  is  ultimately  well  with  one,  the  peace,  the  har- 
mony, the  willingness  to  he,  even  though  the  outer  con- 
ditions should  remain  the  same.  The  certainty  of  God’s 
‘grace,’  of  ‘justification,’  ‘salvation,’  is  an  objective  be- 
lief that  usually  accompanies  the  change  in  Christians ; 
but  this  may  be  entirely  lacking  and  yet  the  affective 
peace  remain  the  same  — you  will  recollect  the  case  of 
the  Oxford  graduate : and  many  might  be  given  where 
the  assurance  of  personal  salvation  was  only  a later 
result.  A passion  of  willingness,  of  acquiescence,  of 
admiration,  is  the  glowing  centre  of  this  state  of  mind. 

The  second  feature  is  the  sense  of  perceiving  truths 
not  known  before.  The  mysteries  of  life  become  lucid,  as 
Professor  Leuba  says ; and  often,  nay  usually,  the  solution 
is  more  or  less  unutterable  in  words.  But  these  more 
intellectual  phenomena  may  be  postponed  until  we  treat 
of  mysticism. 

A third  peculiarity  of  the  assurance  state  is  the  objec- 
tive change  which  the  world  often  appears  to  undergo. 
‘ An  appearance  of  newness  beautifies  every  object,’  the 
precise  opposite  of  that  other  sort  of  newness,  that  dread- 
ful unreality  and  strangeness  in  the  appearance  of  the 
world,  which  is  experienced  by  melancholy  patients,  and  of 
which  you  may  recall  my  relating  some  examples.^  This 
sense  of  clean  and  beautiful  newness  within  and  withouf 
is  one  of  the  commonest  entries  in  conversion  records. 
Jonathan  Edwards  thus  describes  it  in  himself : — 

“ After  this  my  sense  of  divine  things  gradually  increased 
and  became  more  and  more  lively,  and  had  more  of  that  inwarcf 
sweetness.  The  appearance  of  everything  was  altered  ; there 
1 Above,  p.  152. 


CONVERSION 


249 


seemed  to  be,  as  it  were,  a calm,  sweet  cast,  or  appearance  of 
divine  glory,  in  almost  everything.  God’s  excellency,  his  wis- 
dom, his  purity  and  love,  seemed  to  appear  in  everything ; in 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  ; in  the  clouds  and  blue  sky ; in  the 
grass,  flowers,  and  trees  ; in  the  water  and  all  nature  ; which 
used  greatly  to  fix  my  mind.  And  scarce  anything,  among  all 
the  works  of  nature,  was  so  sweet  to  me  as  thunder  and  light- 
ning ; formerly  nothing  had  been  so  terrible  to  me.  Before,  I 
used  to  be  uncommonly  terrified  with  tnunder,  and  to  be  struck 
with  terror  when  I saw  a thunderstorm  rising  ; but  now,  on  the 
contrary,  it  rejoices  me.”  ^ 

Billy  Bray,  an  excellent  little  illiterate  English  evan- 
gelist, records  his  sense  of  newness  thus  : — 

“ I said  to  the  Lord : ‘ Thou  hast  said,  they  that  ask  shall 
receive,  they  that  seek  shall  find,  and  to  them  that  knock  the 
door  shall  be  opened,  and  I have  faith  to  believe  it.’  In  an 
instant  the  Lord  made  me  so  happy  that  I cannot  express  what 
I felt.  I shouted  for  joy.  I praised  God  with  my  whole  heart. 
. . . I think  this  was  in  November,  1823,  but  what  day  of  the 
month  I do  not  know.  I remember  this,  that  everything  looked 
new  to  me,  the  people,  the  fields,  the  cattle,  the  trees.  I was 
like  a new  man  in  a new  world.  I spent  the  greater  part  of  my 
time  in  praising  the  Lord.”  ^ 

Starbuck  and  Leuba  both  illustrate  this  sense  of  new- 
ness by  quotations.  1 take  the  two  following  from  Star- 
buck’s  manuscript  collection.  One,  a woman,  says  : — 

“ I was  taken  to  a camp-meeting,  mother  and  religious  friends 
seeking  and  praying  for  my  conversion.  My  emotional  nature 
was  stirred  to  its  depths  ; confessions  of  depravity  and  pleading 
with  God  for  salvation  from  sin  made  me  oblivious  of  all  sur- 
roundings. I plead  for  mercy,  and  had  a vivid  realization  of 
forgiveness  and  renewal  of  my  nature.  When  rising  from  my 
knees  I exclaimed,  ‘ Old  things  have  passed  away,  all  things 

^ Dwight  : Life  of  Edwards,  New  York,  1830,  p.  61,  abridged. 

® W.  F.  Boukne  : The  King’s  Son,  a Memoir  of  Billy  Bray,  London, 
Hamilton,  Adams  & Co.,  1887,  p.  9. 


260  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


have  become  new.’  It  was  like  entering  another  world,  a new 
state  of  existence.  Natural  objects  were  glorified,  my  spiritual 
vision  was  so  clarified  that  I saw  beauty  in  every  material  ob* 
ject  in  the  universe,  the  woods  were  vocal  with  heavenly  music  ; 
my  soul  exulted  in  the  love  of  God,  and  I wanted  everybody  to 
share  in  my  joy.” 

The  next  case  is  that  of  a man  : — 

“ I know  not  how  I got  back  into  the  encampment,  but  found 

myself  staggering  up  to  Rev. ’s  Holiness  tent  — and  as  it 

was  full  of  seekers  and  a terrible  noise  inside,  some  groaning, 
some  laughing,  and  some  shouting,  and  by  a large  oak,  ten  feet 
from  the  tent,  I fell  on  my  face  by  a bench,  and  tried  to  pray, 
and  every  time  I would  call  on  God,  something  like  a man’s  hand 
would  strangle  me  by  choking.  I don’t  know  whether  there 
were  any  one  around  or  near  me  or  not.  I thought  I should 
surely  die  if  I did  not  get  help,  but  just  as  often  as  I would 
pray,  that  unseen  hand  was  felt  on  my  throat  and  my  breath 
squeezed  off.  Finally  something  said:  ‘ Venture  on  the  atone- 
ment, for  you  will  die  anyway  if  you  don’t.’  So  I made  one  final 
struggle  to  call  on  God  for  mercy,  with  the  same  choking  and 
strangling,  determined  to  finish  the  sentence  of  prayer  for 
Mercy,  if  I did  strangle  and  die,  and  the  last  I remember  that 
time  was  falling  back  on  the  ground  with  the  same  unseen  band 
on  my  throat.  I don’t  know  how  long  I lay  there  or  what  was 
going  on.  None  of  my  folks  were  present.  When  I came  to 
myself,  there  were  a crowd  around  me  praising  God.  The  very 
heavens  seemed  to  open  and  pour  down  rays  of  light  and  glory. 
Not  for  a moment  only,  but  all  day  and  night,  floods  of  light 
and  glory  seemed  to  pour  through  my  soul,  and  oh,  how  I was 
changed,  and  everything  became  new.  My  horses  and  hoga 
and  even  everybody  seemed  changed.” 

This  man’s  case  introduces  the  feature  of  automatisms, 
which  in  suggestible  subjects  have  been  so  startling  a 
feature  at  revivals  since,  in  Edwards’s,  Wesley’s,  and 
Whitfield’s  time,  these  became  a regular  means  of  gospel- 
propagation.  They  were  at  first  supposed  to  be  semi* 


CONVERSION 


261 


miraculous  proofs  of  ‘ power  ’ on  the  part  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ; but  great  divergence  of  opinion  quickly  arose 
concerning  them.  Edwards,  in  his  Thoughts  on  the  Re- 
vival of  Religion  in  New  England,  has  to  defend  them 
against  their  critics ; and  their  value  has  long  been  mat- 
ter of  debate  even  within  the  revivalistic  denominations.^ 
They  undoubtedly  have  no  essential  spiritual  significance, 
and  although  their  presence  makes  his  conversion  more 
memorable  to  the  convert,  it  has  never  been  proved  that 
converts  who  show  them  are  more  persevering  or  fertile 
in  good  fruits  than  those  whose  change  of  heart  has 
had  less  violent  accompaniments.  On  the  whole,  uncon- 
sciousness, convulsions,  visions,  involuntary  vocal  utter- 
ances, and  snffocation,  must  be  simply  ascribed  to  the 
subject’s  having  a large  subliminal  region,  involving 
nervous  instability.  This  is  often  the  subject’s  own  view 
of  the  matter  afterwards.  One  of  Starbuck’s  correspond- 
ents writes,  for  instance  : — 

“ I have  been  through  the  experience  which  is  known  as  con- 
version. My  explanation  of  it  is  this : the  subject  works  his 
emotions  up  to  the  breaking  point,  at  the  same  time  resisting 
their  physical  manifestations,  such  as  quickened  pulse,  etc.,  and 
then  suddenly  lets  them  have  their  full  sway  over  his  body. 
The  relief  is  something  wonderful,  and  the  pleasurable  effects 
of  the  emotions  are  experienced  to  the  highest  degree.” 

There  is  one  form  of  sensory  automatism  which  possi- 
bly deserves  special  notice  on  account  of  its  frequency. 
I refer  to  hallucinatory  or  pseudo-hallucinatory  luminous 
phenomena,  to  use  the  term  of  the  psycholo- 

gists. Saint  Paul’s  blinding  heavenly  vision  seems  to 
have  been  a phenomen  of  this  sort ; so  does  Constantine’s 

^ Consult  WnjLiAM  B.  Sprague  : Lectures  on  Revivals  of  Religion,  New 
York,  1832,  in  the  long  Appendix  to  which  the  opinions  of  a large  number 
«f  ministers  are  given. 


252  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


cross  in  the  sky.  The  last  case  but  one  which  I quoted 
mentions  floods  of  light  and  glory.  Henry  Alline  men- 
tions a light,  about  whose  externality  he  seems  uncertain. 
Colonel  Gardiner  sees  a blazing  hght.  President  Finney 
writes : — 

“ All  at  once  the  glory  of  God  shone  upon  and  round  about 
me  in  a manner  almost  marvelous.  ...  A light  perfectly  inef- 
fable shone  in  my  soul,  that  almost  prostrated  me  on  the  ground. 
. . . This  light  seemed  like  the  brightness  of  the  sun  in  every 
direction.  It  was  too  intense  for  the  eyes.  ...  I think  I knew 
something  then,  by  actual  experience,  of  that  light  that  pros- 
trated Paul  on  the  way  to  Damascus.  It  was  surely  a light 
such  as  I could  not  have  endured  long.”  ^ 

Such  reports  of  photisms  are  indeed  far  from  uncom- 
mon. Here  is  another  from  Starbuck’s  collection,  where 
the  light  appeared  evidently  external : — 

“ I had  attended  a series  of  revival  services  for  about  two 
weeks  off  and  on.  Had  been  invited  to  the  altar  several  times, 
all  the  time  becoming  more  deeply  impressed,  when  finally  I 
decided  I must  do  this,  or  I should  be  lost.  Realization  of 
conversion  was  very  vivid,  like  a ton’s  weight  being  lifted  from 
my  heart ; a strange  light  which  seemed  to  light  up  the  whole 
room  (for  it  was  dark)  ; a conscious  supreme  bliss  which  caused 
me  to  repeat  ‘ Glory  to  God  ’ for  a long  time.  Decided  to  be 
God’s  child  for  life,  and  to  give  up  my  pet  ambition,  wealth  and 
social  position.  My  former  habits  of  life  hindered  my  growth 
somewhat,  but  I set  about  overcoming  these  systematically,  and 
in  one  year  my  whole  nature  was  changed,  i.  e.,  my  ambitions 
were  of  a different  order.” 

Here  is  another  one  of  Starbuck’s  cases,  involving  a 
luminous  element : — 

“ I had  been  clearly  converted  twenty-three  years  before,  or 
rather  reclaimed.  My  experience  in  regeneration  was  then 
clear  and  spiritual,  and  I had  not  backslidden.  But  I expe- 
I Memoirs,  p.  34. 


CONVERSION 


253 


rienced  entire  sanctification  on  the  15th  day  of  March,  1893, 
about  eleven  o’clock  in  the  morning.  The  particular  accom- 
paniments of  the  experience  were  entirely  unexpected.  I was 
quietly  sitting  at  home  singing  selections  out  of  Pentecostal 
Hymns.  Suddenly  there  seemed  to  be  a something  sweeping 
into  me  and  inflating  my  entire  being  — such  a sensation  as  I 
had  never  experienced  before.  When  this  experience  came,  1 
seemed  to  be  conducted  around  a large,  capacious,  well-lighted 
room.  As  I walked  with  my  invisible  conductor  and  looked 
around,  a clear  thought  was  coined  in  my  mind,  ‘ They  are  not 
here,  they  are  gone.’  As  soon  as  the  thought  was  deflnitely 
formed  in  my  mind,  though  no  word  was  spoken,  the  Holy 
Spirit  impressed  me  that  I was  surveying  my  own  soul.  Then, 
for  the  flrst  time  in  all  my  life,  did  I know  that  I was  cleansed 
from  all  sin,  and  filled  with  the  fullness  of  God.” 

Leuba  quotes  the  case  of  a Mr.  Peek,  where  the  lumi* 
nous  affection  reminds  one  of  the  chromatic  hallucinations 
produced  by  the  intoxicant  cactus  buds  called  mescal  by 
the  Mexicans  : — 

“ When  I went  in  the  morning  into  the  fields  to  work,  the 
glory  of  God  appeared  in  all  his  visible  creation.  I well  re- 
member we  reaped  oats,  and  how  every  straw  and  head  of  the 
oats  seemed,  as  it  were,  arrayed  in  a kind  of  rainbow  glory,  or 
to  glow,  if  I may  so  express  it,  in  the  glory  of  God.”  ^ 

1 These  reports  of  sensorial  photism  shade  off  into  what  are  evidently 
only  metaphorical  accounts  of  the  sense  of  new  spiritual  illumination,  as,  for 
instance,  in  Brainerd’s  statement : “As  I was  walking  in  a thick  grove,  un- 
speakable glory  seemed  to  open  to  the  apprehension  of  my  soul.  I do  not 
mean  any  external  brightness,  for  I saw  no  such  thing,  nor  any  imagination 
of  a body  of  light  in  the  third  heavens,  or  anything  of  that  nature,  but  it 
was  a new  inward  apprehension  or  view  that  I had  of  God.” 

In  a case  like  this  next  one  from  Starbuck’s  manuscript  collection,  the 
lighting  up  of  the  darkness  is  probably  also  metaphorical  : — 

“ One  Sunday  night,  I resolved  that  when  I got  home  to  the  ranch  where 
I was  working,  I would  offer  myself  with  my  faculties  and  all  to  God  to  be 
used  only  by  and  for  him.  ...  It  was  raining  and  the  roads  were  muddy  ; 
but  this  desire  grew  so  strong  that  I kneeled  down  by  the  side  of  the  road 
and  told  God  all  about  it,  intending  then  to  get  up  and  go  on.  Such  a 
thing  as  any  special  answer  to  my  prayer  never  entered  my  mind,  having 


m THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


The  most  characteristic  of  all  the  elements  of  the  com 
version  crisis,  and  the  last  one  of  which  I shall  speak,  is 
the  ecstasy  of  happiness  produced.  We  have  already 
heard  several  accounts  of  it,  but  I will  add  a couple 
more.  President  Finney’s  is  so  vivid  that  I give  it  at 
length  : — 

“ All  my  feelings  seemed  to  rise  and  flow  out ; and  the  ut- 
terance of  my  heart  was,  ‘ I want  to  pour  my  whole  soul  out  to 
God.’  The  rising  of  my  soul  was  so  great  that  I rushed  into 
the  back  room  of  the  front  office,  to  pray.  There  was  no  fire 
and  no  light  in  the  room ; nevertheless  it  appeared  to  me  as  if 
it  were  perfectly  light.  As  I went  in  and  shut  the  door  after 
me,  it  seemed  as  if  I met  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  face  to  face. 
It  did  not  occur  to  me  then,  nor  did  it  for  some  time  afterwards, 
that  it  was  wholly  a mental  state.  On  the  contrary,  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I saw  him  as  I would  see  any  other  man.  He  said 
nothing,  but  looked  at  me  in  such  a manner  as  to  break  me 

been  converted  by  faith,  but  still  being  most  undoubtedly  saved.  Well, 
while  I was  praying,  I remember  bolding  out  my  hands  to  God  and  telling 
him  they  should  work  for  him,  my  feet  walk  for  him,  my  tongue  speak  for 
him,  etc.,  etc.,  if  he  would  only  use  me  as  his  instrument  and  give  me  a satisfy- 
ing experience  — when  suddenly  the  darkness  of  the  night  seemed  lit  up  — 
I felt,  realized,  knew,  that  God  heard  and  answered  ray  prayer.  Deep  hap- 
piness came  over  me  ; I felt  I was  accepted  into  the  inner  circle  of  God’s 
loved  ones.” 

In  the  following  case  also  the  flash  of  light  is  metaphorical ; — 

“ A prayer  meeting  had  been  called  for  at  close  of  evening  service.  The 
minister  supposed  me  impressed  by  his  discourse  (a  mistake  — he  was  dull). 
He  came  and,  placing  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  said  : ‘ Do  you  not 
want  to  give  your  heart  to  God  ? ’ I replied  in  the  affirmative.  Then  said 
he,  ‘Come  to  the  front  seat.’  They  sang  and  prayed  and  talked  with  me.  I 
experienced  nothing  but  unaccountable  wretchedness.  They  declared  that 
the  reason  why  I did  not  ‘ obtain  peace  ’ was  because  I was  not  willing  to 
give  up  all  to  God.  After  about  two  hours  the  minister  said  we  would  go 
home.  As  usual,  on  retiring,  I prayed.  In  great  distress,  I at  this  time 
simply  said,  ‘ Lord,  I have  done  all  I can,  I leave  the  whole  matter  with 
thee.’  Immediately,  like  a flash  of  light,  there  came  to  me  a great  peace, 
and  I arose  and  went  into  my  parents’  bedroom  and  said,  ‘ I do  feel  so  won- 
derfully happy.’  This  I regard  as  the  hour  of  conversion.  It  was  the 
hour  in  which  I became  assured  of  divine  acceptance  and  favor.  So  far  aa 
my  life  was  concerned,  it  made  little  immediate  change.” 


CONVERSION 


25S 


right  down  at  his  feet.  1 have  always  since  regarded  this  as  a 
most  remarkable  state  of  mind  ; for  it  seemed  to  me  a reality 
that  he  stood  before  me,  and  I fell  down  at  his  feet  and  poured 
out  my  soul  to  him.  I wept  aloud  like  a child,  and  made  such 
confessions  as  I could  with  my  choked  utterance.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I bathed  his  feet  with  my  tears ; and  yet  I had  no 
distinct  impression  that  I touched  him,  that  I recollect.  I 
must  have  continued  in  this  state  for  a good  while  ; but  my 
mind  was  too  much  absorbed  with  the  interview  to  recollect 
anything  that  I said.  But  I know,  as  soon  as  my  mind  became 
calm  enough  to  break  off  from  the  interview,  I returned  to  the 
front  office,  and  found  that  the  fire  that  I had  made  of  large 
wood  was  nearly  burned  out.  But  as  I turned  and  was  about 
to  take  a seat  by  the  fire,  I received  a mighty  baptism  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Without  any  expectation  of  it,  without  ever  hav- 
ing the  thought  in  my  mind  that  there  was  any  such  thing  for 
me,  without  any  recollection  that  I had  ever  heard  the  thing 
mentioned  by  any  person  in  the  world,  the  Holy  Spirit  de- 
scended upon  me  in  a manner  that  seemed  to  go  through  me, 
body  and  soul.  I could  feel  the  impression,  like  a wave  of 
electricity,  going  through  and  through  me.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
to  come  in  waves  and  waves  of  liquid  love  ; for  I could  not 
express  it  in  any  other  way.  It  seemed  like  the  very  breath 
of  God.  I can  recollect  distinctly  that  it  seemed  to  fan  me, 
like  immense  wings. 

“No  words  can  express  the  wonderful  love  that  was  shed 
abroad  in  my  heart.  I wept  aloud  with  joy  and  love ; and  I 
do  not  know  but  I should  say  I literally  bellowed  out  the  un- 
utterable gushings  of  my  heart.  These  waves  came  over  me, 
and  over  me,  and  over  me,  one  after  the  other,  until  I recollect 
I cried  out,  ‘ I shall  die  if  these  waves  continue  to  pass  over 
me.’  I said,  ‘ Lord,  I cannot  bear  any  more ; ’ yet  I had  no  fear 
of  death. 

“ How  long  I continued  in  this  state,  with  this  baptism  con- 
tinuing to  roll  over  me  and  go  through  me,  I do  not  know. 
But  I know  it  was  late  in  the  evening  when  a member  of  my 
choir  — for  I was  the  leader  of  the  choir  — came  into  the  office 
to  see  me.  He  was  a member  of  the  church.  He  found  me 


266  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


in  this  state  of  loud  weeping,  and  said  to  me,  ‘ Mr.  Finney^ 
what  ails  you  ? ’ I could  make  him  no  answer  for  some  time. 
He  then  said,  ‘ Are  you  in  pain  ? ’ I gathered  myself  up  as 
best  I could,  and  replied,  ‘ No,  but  so  happy  that  I cannot 
live.’  ” 

I just  now  quoted  Billy  Bray ; I cannot  do  better  than 
give  his  own  brief  account  of  his  post-conversion  feel- 
ings : — 

“ I can’t  help  praising  the  Lord.  As  I go  along  the  street, 
I lift  up  one  foot,  and  it  seems  to  say  ‘ Glory  ’ ; and  I lift  up 
the  other,  and  it  seems  to  say  ‘ Amen  ’ ; and  so  they  keep  up 
like  that  all  the  time  I am  walking.”  ^ 

One  word,  before  I close  this  lecture,  on  the  question 
of  the  transiency  or  permanence  of  these  abrupt  conver- 
sions. Some  of  you,  I feel  sure,  knowing  that  numerous 

^ I add  in  a note  a few  more  records  : — 

“ One  morning,  being  in  deep  distress,  fearing  every  moment  I should 
drop  into  hell,  I was  constrained  to  cry  in  earnest  for  mercy,  and  the  Lord 
came  to  my  relief,  and  delivered  my  soul  from  the  burden  and  guilt  of  sin, 
My  whole  frame  was  in  a tremor  from  head  to  foot,  and  my  soul  enjoyed 
sweet  peace.  The  pleasure  I then  felt  was  indescribable.  The  happiness 
lasted  about  three  days,  during  which  time  I never  spoke  to  any  person 
about  my  feelings.”  Autobiography  of  Dan  Young,  edited  by  W.  P. 
Strickland,  New  York,  1860. 

“ In  an  instant  there  rose  up  in  me  such  a sense  of  God’s  taking  care 
of  those  who  put  their  trust  in  him  that  for  an  hour  all  the  world  was 
crystalline,  the  heavens  were  lucid,  and  I sprang  to  my  feet  and  began  to 
cry  and  laugh.”  H.  W.  Beecher,  quoted  by  Leuba. 

“ My  tears  of  sorrow  changed  to  joy,  and  I lay  there  praising  God  in 
such  ecstasy  of  joy  as  only  the  soul  who  experiences  it  can  realize.”  — 
“ I cannot  express  how  I felt.  It  was  as  if  I had  been  in  a dark  dungeon 
and  lifted  into  the  light  of  the  sun.  I shouted  and  I sang  praise  unto  him 
who  loved  me  and  washed  me  from  my  sins.  I was  forced  to  retire  into  a 
secret  place,  for  the  tears  did  flow,  and  I did  not  wish  my  shopmates  to  see 
me,  and  yet  I could  not  keep  ft  a secret.” — “I  experienced  joy  almost 
to  weeping.”  — “I  felt  my  face  must  have  shone  like  that  of  Moses.  1 
had  a general  feeling  of  buoyancy.  It  Was  the  greatest  joy  it  was  ever  my 
lot  to  experience.”  — “I  wept  and  laughed  alternately.  I was  as  light  as 
if  walking  on  air.  I felt  as  if  I had  gained  greater  peace  and  happiness 
than  I had  ever  expected  to  experience.”  Starbuck’s  correspondents. 


CONVERSION 


25i 


backslidings  and  relapses  take  place,  make  of  these  their 
apperceiving  mass  for  interpreting  the  whole  subject,  and 
dismiss  it  with  a pitying  smile  at  so  much  ‘ hysterics.’ 
Psychologically,  as  well  as  religiously,  however,  this  is 
shallow.  It  misses  the  point  of  serious  interest,  which  is 
not  so  much  the  duration  as  the  nature  and  quality  of 
these  shiftings  of  character  to  higher  levels.  Men  lapse 
i from  every  level  — we  need  no  statistics  to  teU  us  that. 
Love  is,  for  instance,  well  known  not  to  ,be  irrevocable, 
yet,  constant  or  inconstant,  it  reveals  new  flights  and 
reaches  of  ideality  while  it  lasts.  These  revelations  form 
its  significance  to  men  and  women,  whatever  be  its  dura- 
tion. So  with  the  conversion  experience  : that  it  should 
for  even  a short  time  show  a human  being  what  the  high- 
water  mark  of  his  spiritual  capacity  is,  this  is  what  con- 
I stitutes  its  importance,  — an  importance  which  backslid- 
ing cannot  diminish,  although  persistence  might  increase 
it.  As  a matter  of  fact,  aU  the  more  striking  instances 
of  conversion,  all  those,  for  instance,  which  I have  quoted, 
have  been  permanent.  The  case  of  which  there  might 
be  most  doubt,  on  account  of  its  suggesting  so  strongly 
an  epileptoid  seizure,  was  the  case  of  M.  Ratisbonne. 
^et  I am  informed  that  Ratisbonne’ s whole  future  was 
shaped  by  those  few  minutes.  He  gave  up  his  project  of 
marriage,  became  a priest,  founded  at  Jerusalem,  where 
he  went  to  dwell,  a mission  of  nuns  for  the  conversion  of 
the  Jews,  showed  no  tendency  to  use  for  egotistic  pur- 
poses the  notoriety  given  him  by  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  his  conversion,  — which,  for  the  rest,  he  could 
seldom  refer  to  without  tears,  — and  in  short  remained 
an  exemplary  son  of  the  Church  until  he  died,  late  in  the 
80’s,  if  I remember  rightly. 

The  only  statistics  I know  of,  on  the  subject  of  the 
duration  of  conversions,  are  those  collected  for  Professor 


258  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Starbuck  by  Miss  Johnston.  They  embrace  only  a bun* 
dred  persons,  evangelical  church-members,  more  than 
half  being  Methodists.  According  to  the  statement  of 
the  subjects  themselves,  there  had  been  backsliding  of 
some  sort  in  nearly  all  the  cases,  93  per  cent,  of  the  wo- 
men, 77  per  cent,  of  the  men.  Discussing  the  returns 
more  minutely,  Starbuck  finds  that  only  6 per  cent,  are 
relapses  from  the  religious  faith  which  the  conversion 
confirmed,  and  that  the  backshding  complained  of  is  in 
most  only  a fluctuation  in  the  ardor  of  sentiment.  Onlj 
six  of  the  hundred  cases  report  a change  of  faith.  Star- 
buck’s  conclusion  is  that  the  effect  of  conversion  is  to 
bring  with  it  “ a changed  attitude  towards  life,  which  is 
fairly  constant  and  permanent,  although  the  feelings 
fluctuate.  ...  In  other  words,  the  persons  who  have 
passed  through  conversion,  having  once  taken  a stand 
for  the  religious  fife,  tend  to  feel  themselves  identified 
with  it,  no  matter  how  much  their  religious  enthusiasm 
declines.”  ^ 

* Psychology  of  Religion,  pp,  360,  357. 


LECTURES  XI,  XII,  AND  Xlli 


SAINTLINESS 

The  last  lecture  left  us  in  a state  of  expectancy. 

What  may  the  practical  fruits  for  life  have  been,  of 
such  movingly  happy  conversions  as  those  we  heard  of? 
With  this  question  the  really  important  part  of  our  task 
opens,  for  you  remember  that  we  began  aU  this  empiri- 
cal inquiry  not  merely  to  open  a curious  chapter  in 
the  natural  history  of  human  consciousness,  but  rather 
to  attain  a spiritual  judgment  as  to  the  total  value  and 
positive  meaning  of  all  the  religious  trouble  and  happi- 
ness which  we  have  seen.  We  must,  therefore,  first 
describe  the  fruits  of  the  religious  life,  and  then  we  must 
judge  them.  This  divides  our  inquiry  into  two  distinct 
parts.  Let  us  without  further  preamble  proceed  to  the 
descriptive  task. 

It  ought  to  be  the  pleasantest  portion  of  our  business 
in  these  lectures.  Some  small  pieces  of  it,  it  is  true, 
may  be  painful,  or  may  show  human  nature  in  a pathetic 
fight,  but  it  will  be  mainly  pleasant,  because  the  best 
fruits  of  religious  experience  are  the  best  things  that  his- 
tory has  to  show.  They  have  always  been  esteemed  so  ; 
here  if  anywhere  is  the  genuinely  strenuous  fife ; and  to 
call  to  mind  a succession  of  such  examples  as  I have 
lately  had  to  wander  through,  though  it  has  been  only  in 
the  reading  of  them,  is  to  feel  encouraged  and  uplifted 
and  washed  in  better  moral  air. 

The  highest  flights  of  charity,  devotion,  trust,  patience, 
bravery  to  which  the  wings  of  human  nature  have  spread 


260  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


themselves  have  been  flown  for  rehgious  ideals.  I can 
do  no  better  than  quote,  as  to  this,  some  remarks  which 
Sainte-Beuve  in  his  History  of  Port-Royal  makes  on  the 
results  of  conversion  or  the  state  of  grace. 

“ Even  from  the  purely  human  point  of  view,”  Sainte- 
Beuve  says,  “ the  phenomenon  of  grace  must  still  appear 
sufficiently  extraordinary,  eminent,  and  rare,  both  in  its 
nature  and  in  its  effects,  to  deserve  a closer  study.  For 
the  soul  arrives  thereby  at  a certain  fixed  and  invincible 
state,  a state  which  is  genuinely  heroic,  and  from  out  of 
which  the  greatest  deeds  which  it  ever  performs  are  exe- 
cuted. Through  all  the  different  forms  of  communion, 
and  ail  the  diversity  of  the  means  which  help  to  produce 
this  state,  whether  it  be  reached  by  a jubilee,  by  a gen- 
eral confession,  by  a solitary  prayer  and  effusion,  what- 
ever in  short  be  the  place  and  the  occasion,  it  is  easy  to 
recognize  that  it  is  fundamentally  one  state  in  spirit  and 
in  fruits.  Penetrate  a little  beneath  the  diversity  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  it  becomes  evident  that  in  Christians 
of  different  epochs  it  is  always  one  and  the  same  modifi- 
cation by  which  they  are  affected  : there  is  veritably  a 
single  fundamental  and  identical  spirit  of  piety  and 
charity,  common  to  those  who  have  received  grace  ; an 
inner  state  which  before  all  things  is  one  of  love  and 
humility,  of  infinite  confidence  in  God,  and  of  severity 
for  one’s  self,  accompanied  with  tenderness  for  others. 
The  fruits  peculiar  to  this  condition  of  the  soul  have  the 
same  savor  in  all,  under  distant  suns  and  in  different 
surroundings,  in  Saint  Teresa  of  Avila  just  as  in  any 
Moravian  brother  of  Herrnhut.”  ^ 

Sainte-Beuve  has  here  only  the  more  eminent  instances 
of  regeneration  in  mind,  and  these  are  of  course  the 
instructive  ones  for  us  also  to  consider.  These  devotees 
1 Sainte-Beuve  : Port-Royal,  vol.  i.  pp.  95  and  106,  abridged. 


SAINTLINESS 


261 


1 have  often  laid  their  course  so  differently  from  other 
I men  that,  judging  them  by  worldly  law,  we  might  be 
I tempted  to  call  them  monstrous  aberrations  from  the  path 
I of  nature.  I begin,  therefore,  by  asking  a general  psycho- 
i logical  question  as  to  what  the  inner  conditions  are  which 
may  make  one  human  character  differ  so  extremely  from 
another. 

I reply  at  once  that  where  the  character,  as  something 
distinguished  from  the  intellect,  is  concerned,  the  causes 
of  human  diversity  lie  chiefly  in  our  differing  suscepti- 
bilities of  emotional  excitement,  and  in  the  different  im- 
pulses and  inhibitions  which  these  bring  in  their  train. 
Let  me  make  this  more  clear. 

Speaking  generally,  our  moral  and  practical  attitude, 
at  any  given  time,  is  always  a resultant  of  two  sets  of 
forces  within  us,  impulses  pushing  us  one  way  and  ob- 
structions and  inhibitions  holding  us  back.  “ Yes ! 
yes  ! ” say  the  impulses  ; “ No  ! no  ! ” say  the  inhibitions. 
Few  people  who  have  not  expressly  reflected  on  the  matter 
realize  how  constantly  this  factor  of  inhibition  is  upon 
us,  how  it  contains  and  moulds  us  by  its  restrictive  pres- 
sure almost  as  if  we  were  fluids  pent  within  the  cavity 
of  a jar.  The  influence  is  so  incessant  that  it  becomes 
subconscious.  All  of  you,  for  example,  sit  here  with  a 
certain  constraint  at  this  moment,  and  entirely  without 
express  consciousness  of  the  fact,  because  of  the  influ- 
ence of  the  occasion.  If  left  alone  in  the  room,  each  of 
you  would  probably  involuntarily  rearrange  himself,  and 
make  his  attitude  more  ‘ free  and  easy.’  But  proprieties 
and  their  inhibitions  snap  like  cobwebs  if  any  great  emo- 
tional excitement  supervenes.  I have  seen  a dandy  ap- 
pear in  the  street  with  his  face  covered  with  shaving- 
lather  because  a house  across  the  way  was  on  fire  ; and 
a woman  will  run  among  strangers  in  her  nightgown  if 


262  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

it  be  a question  of  saving  her  baby’s  life  or  her  own. 
Take  a self-indulgent  woman’s  life  in  general.  She  will 
yield  to  every  inhibition  set  by  her  disagreeable  sensa- 
tions, lie  late  in  bed,  live  upon  tea  or  bromides,  keep 
indoors  from  the  cold.  Every  difficulty  finds  her  obe- 
dient to  its  ‘ no.’  But  make  a mother  of  her,  and  what 
have  you  ? Possessed  by  maternal  excitement,  she  now 
confronts  wakefulness,  weariness,  and  toil  without  an 
instant  of  hesitation  or  a word  of  complaint.  The  in- 
hibitive  power  of  pain  over  her  is  extinguished  wherever 
the  baby’s  interests  are  at  stake.  The  inconveniences 
which  this  creature  occasions  have  become,  as  James  Hin- 
ton says,  the  glowing  heart  of  a great  joy,  and  indeed 
are  now  the  very  conditions  whereby  the  joy  becomes  most 
deep. 

This  is  an  example  of  what  you  have  already  heard  of 
as  the  ‘ expulsive  power  of  a higher  affection.’  But  be 
the  affection  high  or  low,  it  makes  no  difference,  so  long 
as  the  excitement  it  brings  be  strong  enough.  In  one  of 
Henry  Drummond’s  discourses  he  tells  of  an  inundation 
in  India  where  an  eminence  with  a bungalow  upon  it 
remained  unsubmerged,  and  became  the  refuge  of  a 
number  of  wild  animals  and  reptiles  in  addition  to  the 
human  beings  who  were  there.  At  a certain  moment  a 
royal  Bengal  tiger  appeared  swimming  towards  it,  reached 
it,  and  lay  panting  like  a dog  upon  the  ground  in  the 
midst  of  the  people,  still  possessed  by  such  an  agony  of 
terror  that  one  of  the  Englishmen  could  calmly  step  up 
with  a rifle  and  blow  out  its  brains.  The  tiger’s  habitual 
ferocity  was  temporarily  quelled  by  the  emotion  of  fear, 
which  became  sovereign,  and  formed  a new  centre  for  his 
character. 

Sometimes  no  emotional  state  is  sovereign,  but  many 
contrary  ones  are  mixed  together.  In  that  case  one  hears 


SAINTLINESS 


263 


both  ‘yeses’  and  ‘ noes,’  and  the  ‘ will’  is  called  on  then 
to  solve  the  conflict.  Take  a soldier,  for  example,  with  his 
dread  of  cowardice  impelhng  him  to  advance,  his  fears  im- 
pelling him  to  run,  and  his  propensities  to  imitation  push- 
ing him  towards  various  courses  if  his  comrades  offer 
various  examples.  His  person  becomes  the  seat  of  a mass 
of  interferences  ; and  he  may  for  a time  simply  waver, 
because  no  one  emotion  prevails.  There  is  a pitch  of 
intensity,  plough,  which,  if  any  emotion  reach  it,  en- 
thrones  that  one  as  alone  effective  and  sweeps  its  antag- 
onists and^all  their  inhibitions  away;.  The  fury  of  Eis 
comrades^^cliaxge,  once  entered  on,  will  give  this  pitch  of 
courage  to  the  soldier ; the  panic  of  their  rout  will  give 
this  pitch  of  fear.  In  these  sovereign  excitements,  things 
ordinarily  impossible  grow  natural  because  the  inhibitions 
are  annulled.  Their  ‘ no  ! no  ! ’ not  only  is  not  heard,  it 
does  not  exist.  Obstacles  are  then  like  tissue-paper  hoops 
to  the  circus  rider  — no  impediment ; the  flood  is  higher 
than  the  dam  they  make.  “ Lass  sie  betteln  gehn  wenn 
sie  hungrig  sind  ! ” cries  the  grenadier,  frantic  over  his 
Emperor’s  capture,  when  his  wife  and  babes  are  suggested  ; 
and  men  pent  into  a burning  theatre  have  been  known 
to  cut  their  way  through  the  crowd  with  knives.^ 

^ “ ‘ Love  would  not  be  love,’  says  Bourget,  ‘ unless  it  could  carry  one  to 
crime.’  And  so  one  may  say  that  no  passion  would  be  a veritable  passion 
unless  it  could  carry  one  to  crime.”  (Sighele  : Psychologic  des  Sectes, 
p.  136.)  In  other  words,  great  passions  annul  the  ordinary  inhibitions  set  by 
‘ conscience.’  And  conversely,  of  all  the  criminal  human  beings,  the  false, 
cowardly,  sensual,  or  cruel  persons  who  actually  live,  there  is  perhaps  not 
one  whose  criminal  impulse  may  not  be  at  some  moment  overpowered  by  the 
presence  of  some  other  emotion  to  which  his  character  is  also  potentially 
liable,  provided  that  other  emotion  be  only  made  intense  enough.  Fear  is 
usually  the  most  available  emotion  for  this  result  in  this  particular  class  of 
persons.  It  stands  for  conscience,  and  may  here  be  classed  appropriately  as 
a ‘ higher  affection.’  If  we  are  soon  to  die,  or  if  we  believe  a day  of  judg- 
ment to  be  near  at  hand,  how  quickly  do  we  put  our  moral  house  in  order 
— we  do  not  see  how  sin  can  evermore  exert  temptation  over  us  ! Old- 


264  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


One  mode  of  emotional  excitability  is  exceedingly  im- 
portant in  the  composition  of  the  energetic  character, 
from  its  peculiaidy  destructive  power  over  inhibitions.  I 
mean  what  in  its  lower  form  is  mere  irascibility,  suscepti- 
bility to  wrath,  the  fighting  temper ; and  what  in  subtler 
ways  manifests  itself  as  impatience,  grimness,  earnest- 
ness, severity  of  character.  Earnestness  means  willing- 
ness to  live  with  energy,  though  energy  bring  pain.  The 
pain  may  be  pain  to  other  people  or  pain  to  one’s  self  — ' 
it  makes  little  difference ; for  when  the  strenuous  mood 
is  on  one,  the  aim  is  to  break  something,  no  matter  whose 
or  what.  Nothing  annihilates  an  inhibition  as  irresist- 
ibly as  anger  does  it ; for,  as  Moltke  says  of  war,  de- 
struction pure  and  simple  is  its  essence.  This  is  what 
makes  it  so  invaluable  an  ally  of  every  other  passion. 
The  sweetest  delights  are  trampled  on  with  a ferocious 
pleasure  the  moment  they  offer  themselves  as  checks 
a cause  by  which  our  higher  indignations  are  elicited. 
It  costs  then  nothing  to  drop  friendships,  to  renounce 
long-rooted  privileges  and  possessions,  to  break  with 
social  ties.  Rather  do  we  take  a stern  joy  in  the  astrin- 
gency  and  desolation  ; and  what  is  called  weakness  of 
character  seems  in  most  cases  to  consist  in  the  inaptitude 
for  these  sacrificial  moods,  of  which  one’s  own  inferior 
self  and  its  pet  softnesses  must  often  be  the  targets  and 
the  victims.^ 

fashioned  hell-fire  Christianity  well  knew  how  to  extract  from  fear  its  full 
equivalent  in  the  way  of  fruits  for  repentance,  and  its  full  conversion  value. 

^ Example  : Benjamin  Constant  was  often  marveled  at  as  an  extraordi- 
nary instance  of  superior  intelligence  with  inferior  character.  He  writes 
(Journal,  Paris,  1895,  p.  56),  “ I am  tossed  and  dragged  about  by  my  miser- 
able weakness.  Never  was  anything  so  ridiculous  as  my  indecision.  Now 
marriage,  now  solitude  ; now  Germany,  now  France,  hesitation  upon  hesita- 
tion, and  all  because  at  bottom  I am  unable  to  give  up  anything."  He  can’t 
‘ get  mad  ’ at  any  of  his  .alternatives  ; and  the  career  of  a man  beset  by 
such  an  all-round  amiability  is  hopeless. 


SAINTLINESS 


26S 


So  far  I have  spoken  of  temporary  alterations  produced 
by  shifting  excitements  in  the  same  person.  But  the  rela- 
tively fixed  differences  of  character  of  different  persons 
are  explained  in  a precisely  similar  way.  In  a man  with 
a hability  to  a special  sort  of  emotion,  whole  ranges  of 
inhibition  habitually  vanish,  which  in  other  men  remain 
effective,  and  other  sorts  of  inhibition  take  their  place. 
When  a person  has  an  inborn  genius  for  certain  emo- 
tions, his  life  differs  strangely  from  that  of  ordinary  peo- 
ple, for  none  of  their  usual  deterrents  check  him.  Your 
mere  aspirant  to  a type  of  character,  on  the  contrary, 
only  shows,  when  your  natural  lover,  fighter,  or  reformer, 
with  whom  the  passion  is  a gift  of  nature,  comes  along, 
the  hopeless  inferiority  of  voluntary  to  instinctive  action. 
He  has  dehberately  to  overcome  his  inhibitions ; the 
genius  with  the  inborn  passion  seems  not  to  feel  them  at 
aU ; he  is  free  of  all  that  inner  friction  and  nervous 
waste.  To  a Fox,  a Garibaldi,  a General  Booth,  a John 
Brown,  a Louise  Michel,  a Bradlaugh,  the  obstacles  om- 
nipotent over  those  around  them  are  as  if  non-existent. 
Could  the  rest  of  us  so  disregard  them,  there  might  be 
many  such  heroes,  for  many  have  the  wish  to  live  for 
similar  ideals,  and  only  the  adequate  degree  of  inhibition- 
quenching fury  is  lacking.^ 

^ The  great  thing  which  the  higher  excitabilities  give  is  courage  ; and 
the  addition  or  subtraction  of  a certain  amount  of  this  quality  makes  a 
different  man,  a different  life.  Various  excitements  let  the  courage  loose. 
Trustful  hope  will  do  it ; inspiring  example  will  do  it  ; love  will  do  it ; 
wrath  will  do  it.  In  some  people  it  is  natively  so  high  that  the  mere  touch 
of  danger  does  it,  though  danger  is  for  most  men  the  great  inhibitor  of 
action.  ‘ Love  of  adventure  ’ becomes  in  such  persons  a ruling  passion. 
“ I believe,”  says  General  Skobeleff,  “ that  my  bravery  is  simply  the  pas- 
sion and  at  the  same  time  the  contempt  of  danger.  The  risk  of  life  fills  me 
with  an  exaggerated  rapture.  The  fewer  there  are  to  share  it,  the  more  I 
like  it.  The  participation  of  my  body  in  the  event  is  required  to  furnish 
me  an  adequate  excitement.  Everything  intellectual  appears  to  me  to  be 
reflex ; but  a meeting  of  man  to  man,  a duel,  a danger  into  which  I can 


266  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


The  difference  between  willing  and  merely  wishing, 
between  having  ideals  that  are  creative  and  ideals  that 
are  but  pinings  and  regrets,  thus  depends  solely  either 
on  the  amount  of  steam-pressure  chronically  driving  the 
character  in  the  ideal  direction,  or  on  the  amount  of 
ideal  excitement  transiently  acquired.  Given  a certain 
amount  of  love,  indignation,  generosity,  magnanimity, 
admiration,  loyalty,  or  enthusiasm  of  self-surrender,  the 
result  is  always  the  same.  That  whole  raft  of  cowardly 
obstructions,  which  in  tame  persons  and  dull  moods  are 
sovereign  impediments  to  action,  sinks  away  at  once. 
Our  conventionality,'  our  shyness,  laziness,  and  stingi- 
ness, our  demands  for  precedent  and  permission,  for  guar- 
antee and  surety,  our  small  suspicions,  timidities,  despairs, 
where  are  they  now  ? Severed  like  cobwebs,  broken  like 
bubbles  in  the  sun  — 

“Wo  sind  die  Sorge  nun  und  Noth 

Die  mich  noch  gestern  wollt’  erschlafEeu  ? 

Ich  scham’  mich  dess’  im  Morgenroth.” 

The  flood  we  are  borne  on  rolls  them  so  lightly  under 
that  their  very  contact  is  unfelt.  Set  free  of  them,  we 
float  and  soar  and  sing.  This  auroral  openness  and 

throw  myself  headforemost,  attracts  me,  moves  me,  intoxicates  me.  I am 
crazy  for  it,  I love  it,  I adore  it.  I run  after  danger  as  one  runs  after 
women  ; I wish  it  never  to  stop.  Were  it  always  the  same,  it  would 
always  bring  me  anew  pleasure.  When  I throw  myself  into  an  adventure 
in  which  I hope  to  find  it,  my  heart  palpitates  with  the  uncertainty  ; I 
could  wish  at  once  to  have  it  appear  and  yet  to  delay.  A sort  of  painful 
and  delicious  shiver  shakes  me  ; my  entire  nature  runs  to  meet  the  peril 
with  an  impetus  that  my  will  would  iu  vain  try  to  resist.”  (Juliette  Adam  : 
Le  G^ndral  SkobelefE,  Nouvelle  Revue,  1886,  abridged.)  Skobeleff  seems 
to  have  been  a cruel  egoist  ; but  the  disinterested  Garibaldi,  if  one  maji’ 
judge  by  his  ‘ Memorie,’  lived  in  an  unflagging  emotion  of  similar  danger- 
seeking  excitement. 

* See  the  case  on  p.  70,  above,  where  the  writer  describes  his  experiences 
if  communion  with  the  Divine  as  consisting  “ merely  in  the  temporary  oblit’ 
eration  of  the  conventionalities  which  usually  cover  my  life.” 


SAINTLINESS 


267 


uplift  gives  to  all  creative  ideal  levels  a bright  and  carol- 
ing quality,  which  is  nowhere  more  marked  than  where 
the  controlling  emotion  is  religious.  “ The  true  monk,” 
writes  an  Italian  mystic,  ‘‘  takes  nothing  with  him  but 
his  lyre.” 

We  may  now  turn  from  these  psychological  general- 
ities to  those  fruits  of  the  religious  state  which  form  the 
special  subject  of  our  present  lecture.  The  man  who 
lives  in  his  religious  centre  of  personal  energy,  and  is 
actuated  by  spiritual  enthusiasms,  difPers  from  his  previ- 
ous carnal  self  in  perfectly  definite  ways.  The  new  ardor 
which  burns  in  his  breast  consumes  in  its  glow  the  lower 
‘ noes  ’ which  formerly  beset  him,  and  keeps  him  immune 
against  infection  from  the  entire  grovehng  portion  of 
his  nature.  Magnanimities  once  impossible  are  now  easy ; 

> paltry  conventionalities  and  mean  incentives  once  tyran- 
nical hold  no  sway.  The  stone  wall  inside  of  him  has 
fallen,  the  hardness  in  his  heart  has  broken  down.  The 
[ rest  of  us  can,  I think,  imagine  this  by  recalling  our 
I state  of  feeling  in  those  temporary  ‘ melting  moods  ’ 

I into  which  either  the  trials  of  real  life,  or  the  theatre, 
j or  a novel  sometimes  throw  us.  Especially  if  we  weep  ! 

I For  it  is  then  as  if  our  tears  broke  through  an  inveterate 
j inner  dam,  and  let  aU  sorts  of  ancient  peccancies  and 
moral  stagnancies  drain  away,  leaving  us  now  washed 
and  soft  of  heart  and  open  to  every  nobler  leading. 
With  most  of  us  the  customary  hardness  quickly  returns, 
but  not  so  with  saintly  persons.  Many  saints,  even  as 
energetic  ones  as  Teresa  and  Loyola,  have  possessed  what 
the  church  traditionally  reveres  as  a special  grace,  the 
so-called  gift  of  tears.  In  these  persons  the  melting 
mood  seems  to  have  held  almost  uninterrupted  control. 
And  as  it  is  with  tears  and  melting  moods,  so  it  is  with 


268  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

other  exalted  affections.  Their  reign  may  come  by 
gradual  growth  or  by  a crisis ; but  in  either  case  it  may 
have  come  to  stay.’ 

At  the  end  of  the  last  lecture  we  saw  this  permanence 
to  be  true  of  the  general  paramountcy  of  the  higher 
insight,  even  though  in  the  ebbs  of  emotional  excitement 
meaner  motives  might  temporarily  prevail  and  backsliding 
might  occur.  But  that  lower  temptations  may  remain 
completely  annulled,  apart  from  transient  emotion  and 
as  if  by  alteration  of  the  man’s  habitual  nature,  is  also 
proved  by  documentary  evidence  in  certain  cases.  Be> 
fore  embarking  on  the  general  natural  history  of  the 
regenerate  character,  let  me  convince  you  of  this  curi- 
ous fact  by  one  or  two  examples.  The  most  numerous 
are  those  of  reformed  drunkards.  You  recollect  the  case 
of  Mr.  Hadley  in  the  last  lecture;  the  Jerry  McAuley 
Water  Street  Mission  abounds  in  similar  instances.^  You 
also  remember  the  graduate  of  Oxford,  converted  at  three 
in  the  afternoon,  and  getting  drunk  in  the  hay-field  the 
next  day,  but  after  that  permanently  cured  of  his  appe- 
tite. “From  that  hour  drink  has  had  no  terrors  for  me; 
I never  touch  it,  never  want  it.  The  same  thing  occurred 
with  my  pipe,  . . . the  desire  for  it  went  at  once  and  has 
never  returned.  So  with  every  known  sin,  the  deliver- 
ance in  each  case  being  permanent  and  complete.  I have 
had  no  temptations  since  conversion.” 

Here  is  an  analogous  case  from  Starbuck’s  manuscript 
collection  : — 

“ I went  into  the  old  Adelphi  Theatre,  where  there  was  a 
Holiness  meeting,  . . . and  I began  saying,  ‘ Lord,  Lord,  I 
must  have  this  blessing.’  Then  what  was  to  me  an  audible 
voice  said  : ‘ Are  you  willing  to  give  up  everything  to  the 

^ Above,  p.  201.  “ The  only  radical  remedy  I know  for  dipsomania  is 

religiomania,”  is  a saying  I have  heard  quoted  from  some  medical  man. 


SAINTLINESS 


269 


Lord  ? ’ and  question  after  question  kept  coming  up,  to  al]  of 
which  I said  : ‘Yes,  Lord ; yes.  Lord  ! ’ until  this  came  : ‘ Why 
do  you  not  accept  it  now  ? ’ and  I said  : ‘ I do.  Lord.’  — I felt  no 
particular  joy,  only  a trust.  Just  then  the  meeting  closed,  and, 
as  I went  out  on  the  street,  I met  a gentleman  smoking  a fine 
cigar,  and  a cloud  of  smoke  came  into  my  face,  and  I took  a 
long,  deep  breath  of  it,  and  praise  the  Lord,  aU  my  appetite  for 
it  was  gone.  Then  as  I walked  along  the  street,  passing  saloons 
where  the  fumes  of  liquor  came  out,  I found  that  all  my  taste 
and  longing  for  that  accursed  stuff  was  gone.  Glory  to  God ! 
. . . [But]  for  ten  or  eleven  long  years  [after  that]  I was  in 
the  wilderness  with  its  ups  and  downs.  My  appetite  for  liquor 
never  came  back.” 

The  classic  case  of  Colonel  Gardiner  is  that  of  a man 
cured  of  sexual  temptation  in  a single  hour.  To  Mr. 
Spears  the  colonel  said,  “ I was  effectually  cured  of  all 
inclination  to  that  sin  I was  so  strongly  addicted  to  that 
I thought  nothing  but  shooting  me  through  the  head 
could  have  cured  me  of  it ; and  all  desire  and  inclination 
to  it  was  removed,  as  entirely  as  if  I had  been  a suck- 
ing child  ; nor  did  the  temptation  return  to  this  day.” 
Mr.  Webster’s  words  on  the  same  subject  are  these: 
“ One  thing  I have  heard  the  colonel  frequently  say,  that 
he  was  much  addicted  to  impurity  before  his  acquaint- 
ance with  religion  ; but  that,  so  soon  as  he  was  enlight- 
ened from  above,  he  felt  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
changing  his  nature  so  wonderfully  that  his  sanctifica- 
tion in  this  respect  seemed  more  remarkable  than  in  any 
other.”  ^ 

Such  rapid  abolition  of  ancient  impulses  and  propensi- 
ties reminds  us  so  strongly  of  wbat  has  been  observed  aa 
the  result  of  hypnotic  suggestion  that  it  is  difficult  not 
to  believe  that  subliminal  influences  play  the  decisive 

1 Doddridge’s  Life  of  Colonel  James  Gardiner,  London  Religious  Traci 
; Society,  pp.  23-32. 


270  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


part  in  these  abrupt  changes  of  heart,  just  as  they  do  in 
hypnotism/  Suggestive  therapeutics  abound  in  records  of 
cure,  after  a few  sittings,  of  inveterate  bad  habits  with 
which  the  patient,  left  to  ordinary  moral  and  physical  in- 
fluences, had  struggled  in  vain.  Both  drunkenness  and 
sexual  vice  have  been  cured  in  this  way,  action  through 
the  subliminal  seeming  thus  in  many  individuals  to  have 
the  prerogative  of  inducing  relatively  stable  change. 
If  the  grace  of  God  miraculously  operates,  it  probably 
operates  through  the  subliminal  door,  then.  But  just 
how  anything  operates  in  this  region  is  still  unexplained, 
and  we  shall  do  well  now  to  say  good-by  to  the  process  of 
transformation  altogether,  — leaving  it,  if  you  like,  a 
good  deal  of  a psychological  or  theological  mystery,  — 
and  to  turn  our  attention  to  the  fruits  of  the  religious 
condition,  no  matter  in  what  way  they  may  have  been 
produced.^ 

1 Here,  for  example,  is  a case,  from  Starbuck’s  book,  in  which  a ‘ sensory 
automatism  ’ brought  about  quickly  what  prayers  and  resolves  had  been 
unable  to  effect.  The  subject  is  a woman.  She  writes  : — 

“ When  I was  about  forty  I tried  to  quit  smoking,  but  the  desire  was  on 
me,  and  had  me  in  its  power.  I cried  and  prayed  and  promised  God  to 
quit,  but  could  not.  I had  smoked  for  fifteen  years.  When  I was  fifty- 
three,  as  I sat  by  tlie  fire  one  day  smoking,  a voice  came  to  me.  I did  not 
hear  it  with  my  ears,  but  more  as  a dream  or  sort  of  double  think.  It 
said,  ‘ Louisa,  lay  down  smoking.’  At  once  I replied,  ‘ Will  you  take  the 
desire  away  ? ’ But  it  only  kept  saying  : ‘ Louisa,  lay  down  smoking.’ 
Then  I got  up,  laid  my  pipe  on  the  mantel-shelf,  and  never  smoked  again ' 
or  had  any  desire  to.  The  desire  was  gone  as  though  I had  never  known 
it  or  touched  tobacco.  The  sight  of  others  smoking  and  the  smell  of  smoke , 
never  gave  me  the  least  wish  to  touch  it  again.”  The  Psychology  of 
Religion,  p.  142.  I 

^ Professor  Starbuek  expresses  the  radical  destruction  of  old  influences 
physiologically,  as  a cutting  off  of  the  connection  between  higher  and  lower 
cerebral  centres.  “ This  condition,”  he  says,  “ in  which  the  association- 
centres  connected  with  the  spiritual  life  are  cut  off  from  the  lower,  is  often 
reflected  in  the  way  correspondents  describe  their  experiences.  . . . For  j 
example  : ‘ Temptations  from  without  still  assail  me,  but  there  is  nothing 
within  to  respond  to  them.’  The  ego  [here]  is  wholly  identified  with  thel 


SAINTLINESS 


271 


The  collective  name  for  the  ripe  fruits  of  religion  in 
a character  is  Saintliness.^  The  saintly  character  is  the 
character  for  which  spiritual  emotions  are  the  habitual 
centre  of  the  personal  energy  ; and  there  is  a certain  com- 
posite photograph  of  universal  saintliness,  the  same  in  all 
religions,  of  which  the  features  can  easily  be  traced.^ 

higher  centres,  whose  quality  of  feeling  is  that  of  withinness.  Another 
of  the  respondents  says  : ‘ Since  then,  although  Satan  tempts  me,  there 
is  as  it  were  a wall  of  brass  around  me,  so  that  his  darts  cannot  touch 
me.’”  — Unquestionably,  functional  exclusions  of  this  sort  must  occur  in 
the  cerebral  organ.  But  on  the  side  accessible  to  introspection,  their  causal 
condition  is  nothing  but  the  degree  of  spiritual  excitement,  getting  at  last 
so  high  and  strong  as  to  be  sovereign  ; and  it  must  be  frankly  confessed 
that  we  do  not  know  just  why  or  how  such  sovereignty  comes  about  in  one 
person  and  not  in  another.  We  can  only  give  our  imagination  a certain 
delusive  help  by  mechanical  analogies. 

If  we  should  conceive,  for  example,  that  the  human  mind,  with  its  differ- 
ent possibilities  of  equilibrium,  might  be  like  a many-sided  solid  with  dif- 
ferent surfaces  on  which  it  could  lie  flat,  we  might  liken  mental  revolutions 
to  the  spatial  revolutions  of  such  a body.  As  it  is  pried  up,  say  by  a lever, 
from  a position  in  which  it  lies  on  surface  A,  for  instance,  it  will  linger  for 
a time  unstably  halfway  up,  and  if  the  lever  cease  to  urge  it,  it  will  tumble 
back  or  ‘ relapse  ’ under  the  continued  pull  of  gravity.  But  if  at  last  it 
rotate  far  enough  for  its  centre  of  gravity  to  pass  beyond  surface  A alto- 
gether, the  body  will  fall  over,  on  surface  B,  say,  and  abide  there  perma- 
nently. The  pulls  of  gravity  towards  A have  vanished,  and  may  now  be 
disregarded.  The  polyhedron  has  become  immune  against  farther  attrac- 
tion from  their  direction. 

In  this  figure  of  speech  the  lever  may  correspond  to  the  emotional  influ- 
ences making  for  a new  life,  and  the  initial  pull  of  gravity  to  the  ancient 
drawbacks  and  inhibitions.  So  long  as  the  emotional  influence  fails  to  reach 
a certain  pitch  of  efficacy,  the  changes  it  produces  are  unstable,  and  the 
man  relapses  into  his  original  attitude.  But  when  a certain  intensity  is 
attained  by  the  new  emotion,  a critical  point  is  passed,  and  there  then  en- 
sues an  irreversible  revolution,  equivalent  to  the  production  of  a new  nature. 

1 I use  this  word  in  spite  of  a certain  flavor  of  ‘ sanctimoniousness  ’ 
which  sometimes  clings  to  it,  because  no  other  word  suggests  as  well  the 
exact  combination  of  affections  which  the  text  goes  on  to  describe. 

2 “ It  will  be  found,”  says  Dr.  W.  R.  Inge  (in  his  lectures  on  Christian 
Mysticism,  London,  1899,  p.  326),  “that  men  of  preeminent  saintliness  agree 
very  closely  in  what  they  tell  us.  They  tell  us  that  they  have  arrived  at  an 
unshakable  conviction,  not  based  on  inference  but  on  immediate  experi- 
ence, that  God  is  a spirit  with  whom  the  human  spirit  can  hold  intercourse  j 


272  THE  'VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


They  are  these  : — 

1.  A feeling  of  being  in  a wider  life  than  that  of  this 
world’s  selfish  little  interests ; and  a conviction,  not  merely 
intellectual,  but  as  it  were  sensible,  of  the  existence  of  an 
Ideal  Power.  In  Christian  saintliness  this  power  is  always 
personified  as  God ; but  abstract  moral  ideals,  civic  or 
patriotic  utopias,  or  inner  visions  of  holiness  or  right  may 
also  be  felt  as  the  true  lords  and  enlargers  of  our  life,  in 
ways  which  I described  in  the  lecture  on  the  Reahty  of 
the  Unseen.^ 

that  in  him  meet  all  that  they  can  imagine  of  goodness,  truth,  and  beauty ; 
that  they  can  see  his  footprints  everywhere  in  nature,  and  feel  his  pre- 
sence within  them  as  the  very  life  of  their  life,  so  that  in  proportion  as  they 
come  to  themselves  they  come  to  him.  They  tell  us  what  separates  us  from 
him  and  from  happiness  is,  first,  self-seeking  in  all  its  forms  ; and,  sec- 
ondly, sensuality  in  all  its  forms  ; that  these  are  the  ways  of  darkness  and 
death,  which  hide  from  us  the  face  of  God  ; while  the  path  of  the  just  is 
like  a shining  light,  which  shiueth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.” 

1 The  ‘enthusiasm  of  humanity’  may  lead  to  a life  which  coalesces  in 
many  respects  with  that  of  Christian  saintliness.  Take  the  following  rules 
proposed  to  members  of  the  Union  pour  I’Action  morale,  in  the  Bulletin  de 
I’Union,  April  1-15,  1894.  See,  also.  Revue  Bleue,  August  13,  1892. 

“We  would  make  known  in  our  own  persons  the  usefulness  of  rule,  of 
discipline,  of  resignation  and  renunciation  ; we  would  teach  the  necessary 
perpetuity  of  suffering,  and  explain  the  creative  part  which  it  plays.  We 
would  wage  war  upon  false  optimism  ; on  the  base  hope  of  happiness  coming 
to  us  ready  made  ; on  the  notion  of  a salvation  by  knowledge  alone,  or  by| 
material  civilization  alone,  vain  symbol  as  this  is  of  civilization,  precarious 
external  arrangement,  ill-fitted  to  replace  the  intimate  union  and  consent  of' 
souls.  We  would  wage  war  also  on  bad  morals,  whether  in  public  or  in  pri-j 
vate  life  ; on  luxury,  fastidiousness,  and  over-refinement  ; on  all  that  tends 
to  increase  the  painful,  immoral,  and  anti-social  multiplication  of  our  wants  ;| 
on  all  that  excites  envy  and  dislike  in  the  soul  of  the  common  people,  and' 
confirms  the  notion  that  the  chief  end  of  life  is  freedom  to  enjoy.  We, 
would  preach  by  our  example  the  respect  of  superiors  and  equals,  the  respect 
of  all  men  ; affectionate  simplicity  in  our  relations  with  inferiors  and  insig- 
nificant persons  ; indulgence  where  our  own  claims  only  are  concerned,  but 
firmness  in  our  demands  where  they  relate  to  duties  towards  others  or  to- 
wards the  public.  | 

“ For  the  common  people  are  what  we  help  them  to  become  ; their  vices 
are  our  vices,  gazed  upon,  envied,  and  imitated  ; and  if  they  come  back  with 
all  their  weight  upon  us,  it  is  but  just. 


SAINTLINESS 


273 


2.  A sense  of  the  friendly  continuity  of  the  ideal 
power  with  our  own  life,  and  a wilhng  self -surrender  to 
its  control. 

3.  An  immense  elation  and  freedom,  as  the  outlines  of 
the  confining  selfhood  melt  down. 

4.  A shifting  of  the  emotional  centre  towards  loving 
and  harmonious  affections,  towards  ‘ yes,  yes,’  and  away 
from  ‘ no,’  where  the  claims  of  the  non-ego  are  concerned. 

These  fundamental  inner  conditions  have  character* 
istic  practical  consequences,  as  follows  : — 

а.  Asceticism.  — The  self-surrender  may  become  sc 
passionate  as  to  turn  into  self-immolation.  It  may  then 
so  overrule  the  ordinary  inhibitions  of  the  flesh  that  the 
saint  flnds  positive  pleasure  in  sacriflce  and  asceticism^ 
measuring  and  expressing  as  they  do  the  degree  of  his 

j loyalty  to  the  higher  power. 

б.  Strength  of  Soul.  — The  sense  of  enlargement  of 
life  may  he  so  uplifting  that  personal  motives  and  inhibi* 
tions,  commonly  omnipotent,  become  too  insignificant  for 
notice,  and  new  reaches  of  patience  and  fortitude  open 
out.  Fears  and  anxieties  go,  and  bhssful  equanimity 
takes  their  place.  Come  heaven,  come  hell,  it  makes  nc 

; difference  now  ! 

“We  forbid  ourselves  all  seeking  after  popularity,  all  ambition  to  appear 
Important.  We  pledge  ourselves  to  abstain  from  falsehood,  in  all  its  de- 
grees. We  promise  not  to  create  or  encourage  illusions  as  to  what  is  pos- 
sible, by  wbat  we  say  or  write.  We  promise  to  one  another  active  sincerity, 
which  strives  to  see  truth  clearly,  and  which  never  fears  to  declare  what  it 
sees. 

“We  promise  deliberate  resistance  to  the  tidal  waves  of  fashion,  to  the 
‘ booms  ’ and  panics  of  the  public  mind,  to  all  the  forms  of  weakness  and  of 
fear. 

“ We  forbid  ourselves  the  use  of  sarcasm.  Of  serious  things  we  will  speak 
seriously  and  uusmilingly,  without  banter  and  without  the  appearance  of 
I banter  ; — and  even  so  of  all  things,  for  there  are  serious  ways  of  being  light 
of  heart. 

“We  will  put  ourselves  forward  always  for  what  we  are,  simply  and  with* 

I out  false  humility,  as  well  as  without  pedantry,  affectation,  or  pride.” 


274  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

c.  Purity.  — The  shifting  of  the  emotional  centre 
brings  with  it,  first,  increase  of  purity.  The  sensitive’ 
ness  to  spiritual  discords  is  enhanced,  and  the  cleansing 
of  existence  from  brutal  and  sensual  elements  becomes 
imperative.  Occasions  of  contact  with  such  elements  are 
avoided  ; the  saintly  life  must  deepen  its  spiritual  con- 
sistency and  keep  unspotted  from  the  world.  In  some 
temperaments  this  need  of  purity  of  spirit  takes  an  ascetic 
turn,  and  weaknesses  of  the  flesh  are  treated  with  relenfl 
less  severity. 

d.  Charity.  — The  shifting  of  the  emotional  centre 
brings,  secondly,  increase  of  charity,  tenderness  for  fel- 
low-creatures. The  ordinary  motives  to  antipathy,  which 
usually  set  such  close  bounds  to  tenderness  among  human 
beings,  are  inhibited.  The  saint  loves  his  enemies,  and 
treats  loathsome  beggars  as  his  brothers. 

I now  have  to  give  some  concrete  illustrations  of  these 
fruits  of  the  spiritual  tree.  The  only  difficulty  is  to 
choose,  for  they  are  so  abundant. 

Since  the  sense  of  Presence  of  a higher  and  friendly 
Power  seems  to  be  the  fundamental  feature  in  the  spir- 
itual life,  I will  begin  with  that. 

In  our  narratives  of  conversion  we  saw  how  the  world 
might  look  shining  and  transfigured  to  the  convert,^  and, 
apart  from  anything  acutely  religious,  we  all  have  mo- 
ments when  the  universal  life  seems  to  wrap  us  round 
with  friendliness.  In  youth  and  health,  in  summer,  in 
the  woods  or  on  the  mountains,  there  come  days  when  the 
weather  seems  all  whispering  with  peace,  hours  when  the 
goodness  and  beauty  of  existence  enfold  us  like  a dry 
warm  climate,  or  chime  through  us  as  if  our  inner  ears 
were  subtly  ringing  with  the  world’s  security.  Thoreau 
writes : — 


* Above,  pp.  248  £E. 


SAINTLINESS 


275 


“ Once,  a few  weeks  after  I came  to  the  woods,  for  an  hour  I 
doubted  whether  the  near  neighborhood  of  man  was  not  essen- 
tial to  a serene  and  healthy  life.  To  be  alone  was  somewhat 
unpleasant.  But,  in  the  midst  of  a gentle  rain,  while  these 
thoughts  prevailed,  I was  suddenly  sensible  of  such  sweet  and 
beneficent  society  in  Nature,  in  the  very  pattering  of  the  drops, 
and  in  every  sight  and  sound  around  my  house,  an  infinite  and 
unaccountable  friendliness  all  at  once,  like  an  atmosphere,  sus- 
taining me,  as  made  the  fancied  advantages  of  human  neigh- 
borhood insignificant,  and  I have  never  thought  of  them  since. 
Every  little  pine-needle  expanded  and  swelled  with  sympathy 
and  befriended  me.  I was  so  distinctly  made  aware  of  the 
presence  of  something  kindred  to  me,  that  I thought  no  place 
could  ever  be  strange  to  me  again.”  ^ 

In  the  Christian  consciousness  this  sense  of  the  en- 
veloping friendliness  becomes  most  personal  and  definite. 
“ The  compensation,”  writes  a German  author,  “ for  the 
loss  of  that  sense  of  personal  independence  which  man 
so  unwillingly  gives  up,  is  the  disappearance  of  all  fear 
from  one’s  life,  the  quite  indescribable  and  inexplicable 
feeling  of  an  inner  security,  which  one  can  only  experi- 
ence, but  which,  once  it  has  been  experienced,  one  can 
never  forget.”  ^ 

I find  an  excellent  description  of  this  state  of  mind  in 
a sermon  by  Mr.  V oysey : — 

“ It  is  the  experience  of  myriads  of  trustful  souls,  that  this 
sense  of  God’s  unfailing  presence  with  them  in  their  going  out 
and  in  their  coming  in,  and  by  night  and  day,  is  a source  of 
absolute  repose  and  confident  calmness.  It  drives  away  all  fear 
of  what  may  befall  them.  That  nearness  of  God  is  a constant 
security  against  terror  and  anxiety.  It  is  not  that  they  are  at 
all  assured  of  physical  safety,  or  deem  themselves  protected  by 
a love  which  is  denied  to  others,  but  that  they  are  in  a state  of 
mind  equally  ready  to  be  safe  or  to  meet  with  injury.  If  injury 

‘ H.  Thoreau  : Walden,  Riverside  edition,  p.  206,  abridged. 

* C.  H.  Hilty  : Gluck,  vol.  i.  p.  85. 


276  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


befall  them,  they  will  be  content  to  bear  it  because  the  Lord 
their  keeper,  and  nothing  can  befall  them  without  his  will, 
it  be  his  will,  then  injury  is  for  them  a blessing  and  no  calai% 
ity  at  all.  Thus  and  thus  only  is  the  trustful  man  protected 
and  shielded  from  harm.  And  I for  one  — by  no  means  a thick- 
skinned  or  hard-nerved  man  — am  absolutely  satisfied  with  this 
arrangement,  and  do  not  wish  for  any  other  kind  of  immunity 
from  danger  and  catasti'ophe.  Quite  as  sensitive  to  pain  as  the 
most  highly  strung  organism,  I yet  feel  that  the  worst  of  it  is 
conquered,  and  the  sting  taken  out  of  it  altogether,  by  the 
thought  that  God  is  our  loving  and  sleepless  keeper,  and  that 
nothing  can  hurt  us  without  his  will.”  ^ 

More  excited  expressions  of  this  condition  are  abun- 
dant in  religious  literature.  I could  easily  weary  you  with 
their  monotony.  Here  is  an  account  from  Mrs.  Jonathan 
Edvvards : — 

“ Last  night,”  Mrs.  Edwards  writes,  “ was  the  sweetest  night 
I ever  had  in  my  life.  I never  before,  for  so  long  a time 
together,  enjoyed  so  much  of  the  light  and  rest  and  sweetness 
of  heaven  in  my  soul,  but  without  the  least  agitation  of  body 
during  the  whole  time.  Part  of  the  night  I lay  awake,  some- 
times asleep,  and  sometimes  between  sleeping  and  waking.  But 
all  night  I continued  in  a constant,  clear,  and  lively  sense  of 
the  heavenly  sweetness  of  Christ’s  excellent  love,  of  his  near- 
ness to  me,  and  of  my  dearness  to  him ; with  an  inexpressibly 
sweet  calmness  of  soul  in  an  entire  rest  in  him.  I seemed  to 
myself  to  perceive  a glow  of  divine  love  come  down  from  the 
heart  of  Christ  in  heaven  into  my  heart  in  a constant  stream, 
like  a stream  or  pencil  of  sweet  light.  At  the  same  time  my 
heart  and  soul  all  flowed  out  in  love  to  Christ,  so  that  there 
seemed  to  be  a constant  flowing  and  reflowing  of  heavenly  love, 
and  I appeared  to  myself  to  float  or  swim,  in  these  bright,  sweet 
beams,  like  the  motes  swimming  in  the  beams  of  the  sun,  or  the 
streams  of  his  light  which  come  in  at  the  window.  I think  that 
what  I felt  each  minute  was  worth  more  than  all  the  outward 
comfort  and  pleasure  which  I had  enjoyed  in  my  whole  life  put 
1 The  Mystery  of  Pain  and  Death,  London,  1892,  p.  258. 


SAINTLINESS 


27'^ 

together.  It  was  pleasure,  without  the  least  sting,  or  any  inter, 
ruption.  It  was  a sweetness,  which  my  soul  was  lost  in ; it 
seemed  to  be  all  that  my  feeble  frame  could  sustain.  There  was 
but  little  difference,  whether  I was  asleep  or  awake,  but  if  there 
was  any  difference,  the  sweetness  was  greatest  while  I was 
asleep.^  As  I awoke  early  the  next  morning,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I had  entirely  done  with  myself.  I felt  that  the  opinions 
of  the  world  concerning  me  were  nothing,  and  that  I had  no 
more  to  do  with  any  outward  interest  of  my  own  than  with  that 
of  a person  whom  I never  saw.  The  glory  of  God  seemed  to 
swallow  up  every  wish  and  desire  of  my  heart.  . . . After  retir- 
ing to  rest  and  sleeping  a little  while,  I awoke,  and  was  led  to 
reflect  on  God’s  mercy  to  me,  in  giving  me,  for  many  years,  a 
willingness  to  die  ; and  after  that,  in  making  me  willing  to 
live,  that  I might  do  and  suffer  whatever  he  called  me  to  here. 
I also  thought  how  God  had  graciously  given  me  an  entire 
7-esignation  to  his  will,  with  respect  to  the  kind  and  manner  of 
death  that  I should  die ; having  been  made  willing  to  die  on 
the  rack,  or  at  the  stake,  and  if  it  were  God’s  will,  to  die  in 
darkness.  But  now  it  occurred  to  me,  I used  to  think  of  living 
no  longer  than  to  the  ordinary  age  of  man.  Upon  this  I was 
led  to  ask  myself,  whether  I was  not  willing  to  be  kept  out  of 
heaven  even  longer ; and  my  whole  heart  seemed  immediately 
I to  reply : Yes,  a thousand  years,  and  a thousand  in  horror,  if 
it  be  most  for  the  honor  of  God,  the  torment  of  my  body  being 
; so  great,  awful,  and  overwhelming  that  none  could  bear  to  live 
in  the  country  where  the  spectacle  was  seen,  and  the  torment  of 
[ my  mind  being  vastly  greater.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
found  a perfect  willingness,  quietness,  and  alacrity  of  soul  in 

^ Compare  Madame  Guyon  : “ It  was  my  practice  to  arise  at  midnight  for 
purposes  of  devotion.  ...  It  seemed  to  me  that  God  came  at  the  precise 
' time  and  woke  me  from  sleep  in  order  that  I might  enjoy  him.  When  I 
was  out  of  health  or  greatly  fatigued,  he  did  not  awake  me,  but  at  such 
< times  I felt,  even  in  my  sleep,  a singular  possession  of  God.  He  loved  me 
so  much  that  he  seemed  to  pervade  my  being,  at  a time  when  I could  be 
only  imperfectly  conscious  of  his  presence.  My  sleep  is  sometimes  broken, 
— a sort  of  half  sleep  ; but  my  soul  seems  to  be  awake  enough  to  know 
' God,  when  it  is  hardly  capable  of  knowing  anything  else.”  T.  C.  Upham  ; 
The  Life  and  Religious  Experiences  of  Madame  de  la  Mothe  Guyon,  New 
York,  1877,  vol.  i.  p.  260. 


278  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


consenting  that  it  should  be  so,  if  it  were  most  for  the  glory  ol 
God,  so  that  there  was  no  hesitation,  doubt,  or  darkness  in  my 
mind.  The  glory  of  God  seemed  to  overcome  me  and  swal- 
low me  up,  and  every  conceivable  suffering,  and  everything 
that  was  terrible  to  my  nature,  seemed  to  shrink  to  nothing 
before  it.  This  resignation  continued  in  its  clearness  and 
brightness  the  rest  of  the  night,  and  all  the  next  day,  and  the 
night  following,  and  on  Monday  in  the  forenoon,  without  inter- 
ruption or  abatement.”  ^ 

The  annals  of  Catholic  saintship  abound  in  records  as 
ecstatic  or  more  ecstatic  than  this.  “ Often  the  assaults 
of  the  divine  love,”  it  is  said  of  the  Sister  Seraphique  de 
la  Martiniere,  “ reduced  her  almost  to  the  point  of  death. 
She  used  tenderly  to  complain  of  this  to  God.  ‘ I cannot 
support  it,’  she  used  to  say.  ‘ Bear  gently  with  my  weak- 
ness, or  I shall  expire  under  the  violence  of  your  love.’  ” ^ 

Let  me  pass  next  to  the  Charity  and  Brotherly  Love 
which  are  a usual  fruit  of  saintliness,  and  have  always 
been  reckoned  essential  theological  virtues,  however  lim- 
ited may  have  been  the  kinds  of  service  which  the  par- 
ticular theology  enjoined.  Brotherly  love  would  follow 
logically  from  the  assurance  of  God’s  friendly  presence, 
the  notion  of  our  brotherhood  as  men  being  an  immediate 
inference  from  that  of  God’s  fatherhood  of  us  all.  When 
Christ  utters  the  precepts  : “ Love  your  enemies,  bless 
them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and 
pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you,  and  persecute 
you,”  he  gives  for  a reason  : ‘‘  That  ye  may  be  the  chil- 
dren of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  : for  he  maketh  his 
sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain 
on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust.”  One  might  therefore 

^ I have  considerably  abridged  the  words  of  the  original,  which  is  given 
in  Edwards’s  Narrative  of  the  Revival  in  New  England. 

* Bougaud  : Hist,  de  la  Bienheureuse  Marguerite  Marie,  1894,  p.  125. 


SAINTLINESS 


279 


be  tempted  to  explain  both  the  humility  as  to  one’s  self 
and  the  charity  towards  others  which  characterize  spir- 
itual excitement,  as  results  of  the  all-levehng  character  of 
mstic  belief . But  these  affections  are  certainly  not  mere 
derivatives  of  theism.  We  find  tiiem  in  Stoicism,  in  Hin- 
duism, and  in  Buddhism  in  the  highest  possible  degree. 
They  harmonize  with  paternal  theism  beautifully ; but 
they  harmonize  with  all  reflection  whatever  upon  the  de- 
pendence of  mankind  on  general  causes ; and  we  must,  I 
think,  consider  them  not  subordinate  but  coordinate  parts 
of  that  great  complex  excitement  in  the  study  of  which 
we  are  engaged.  Rehgious  rapture,  moral  enthusiasm, 
ontological  wonder,  cosmic  emotion,  are  all  unifying  states 
of  mind,  in  which  the  sand  and  grit  of  the  selfhood  in- 
cline to  disappear,  and  tenderness  to  rule.  The  best  thing 
is  to  describe  the  condition  integrally  as  a characteristic 
affection  to  which  our  nature  is  liable,  a region  in  which 
we  find  ourselves  at  home,  a sea  in  which  we  swim ; but 
not  to  pretend  to  explain  its  parts  by  deriving  them  too 
cleverly  from  one  another.  Like  love  or  fear,  the  faith- 
state  is  a natural  psychic  complex,  and  carries  charity 
with  it  by  organic  consequence.  Jubilation  is  an  expan- 
sive affection,  and  all  expansive  affections  are  self-forget- 
ful and  kindly  so  long  as  they  endure. 

We  find  this  the  case  even  when  they  are  pathological 
in  origin.  In  his  instructive  work,  la  Tristesse  et  la  Joie,^ 
M.  Georges  Dumas  compares  together  the  melancholy  and 
the  joyous  phase  of  circular  insanity,  and  shows  that, 
while  selfishness  characterizes  the  one,  the  other  is  marked 
by  altruistic  impulses.  No  human  being  so  stingy  and 
useless  as  was  Marie  m her  melancholy  period ! But  the 
moment  the  happy  period  begins,  “ sympathy  and  kind- 
ness become  her  characteristic  sentiments.  She  displays 

1 Paris,  1900. 


280  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


a universal  goodwill,  not  only  of  intention,  but  in  act. 
. . . She  becomes  solicitous  of  the  health  of  other  pa- 
tients, interested  in  getting  them  out,  desirous  to  procure 
wool  to  knit  socks  for  some  of  them.  Never  since  she 
has  been  under  my  observation  have  I heard  her  in  her 
joyous  period  utter  any  but  charitable  opinions.”  ^ And 
later.  Dr.  Dumas  says  of  all  such  joyous  conditions  that 
“ unselfish  sentiments  and  tender  emotions  are  the  only 
affective  states  to  be  found  in  them.  The  subject’s  mind 
is  closed  against  envy,  hatred,  and  vindictiveness,  and 
wholly  transformed  into  benevolence,  indulgence,  and 

5?  2 

mercy. 

There  is  thus  an  organic  affinity  between  joyousness 
and  tenderness,  and  their  companionship  in  the  saintly 
life  need  in  no  way  occasion  surprise.  Along  with  the 
happiness,  this  increase  of  tenderness  is  often  noted  in 
narratives  of  conversion.  “ I began  to  work  for  others”  ; 

— ‘‘I  had  more  tender  feeling  for  my  family  and  friends  ” ; 

— ‘‘I  spoke  at  once  to  a person  with  whom  I had  been 
angry  ” ; — “I  felt  for  every  one,  and  loved  my  friends 
better  ” ; — “I  felt  every  one  to  be  my  friend ” ; — these 
are  so  many  expressions  from  the  records  collected  by 
Professor  Starbuck.^ 

“ When,”  says  Mrs.  Edwards,  continuing  the  narrative  from 
which  I made  quotation  a moment  ago,  “ I arose  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  Sabbath,  I felt  a love  to  all  mankind,  wholly  peculiar 
in  its  strength  and  sweetness,  far  beyond  all  that  I had  ever 
felt  before.  The  power  of  that  love  seemed  inexpressible.  I 
thought,  if  I were  surrounded  by  enemies,  who  were  venting 
their  malice  and  cruelty  upon  me,  in  tormenting  me,  it  would 
still  be  impossible  that  I should  cherish  any  feelings  towards 
them  but  those  of  love,  and  pity,  and  ardent  desires  for  their 
happiness.  I never  before  felt  so  far  from  a disposition  to  judge 
and  censure  others,  as  I did  that  morning.  I realized  also,  in 

1 Page  130.  ^ Page  167.  ® Op.  cit.,  p.  127. 


SAINTLINESS 


281 


an  unusual  and  very  lively  manner,  how  great  a part  of  Chris- 
■ tianity  lies  in  the  performance  of  our  social  and  relative  duties 
to  one  another.  The  same  joyful  sense  continued  throughout 
the  day  — a sweet  love  to  God  and  all  mankind.” 

Whatever  be  the  explanation  of  the  charity,  it  may 
efface  all  usual  human  barriers.^ 

Here,  for  instance,  is  an  example  of  Christian  non-resist- 
ance fhom  Richard  W eaver’s  autobiography.  W eaver  was 
a collier,  a semi-professional  pugilist  in  his  younger  days, 
who  became  a much  beloved  evangelist.  Fighting,  after 
drinking,  seems  to  have  been  the  sin  to  which  he  origi- 
nally felt  his  flesh  most  perversely  inclined.  After  his 
first  conversion  he  had  a backsliding,  which  consisted  in 
pounding  a man  who  had  insulted  a girl.  Feeling  that, 
having  once  fallen,  he  might  as  well  be  hanged  for  a 
1 sheep  as  for  a lamb,  he  got  drunk  and  went  and  broke 
' the  jaw  of  another  man  who  had  lately  challenged  him 
to  fight  and  taunted  him  with  cowardice  for  refusing  as 
a Christian  man ; — I mention  these  incidents  to  show 
how  genuine  a change  of  heart  is  impHed  in  the  later  con- 
duct which  he  describes  as  follows  : — 

1 The  barrier  between  men  and  animals  also.  We  read  of  Towianski, 

I an  eminent  Polish  patriot  and  mystic,  that  “ one  day  one  of  his  friends 
met  him  in  the  rain,  caressing  a big  dog  which  was  jumping  upon  him 
and  covering  him  horribly  with  mud.  On  being  asked  why  he  permitted 
; the  animal  thus  to  dirty  his  clothes,  Towianski  replied  : ‘ This  dog,  whom 
' I am  now  meeting  for  the  first  time,  has  shown  a great  fellow-feeling  for 
e me,  and  a great  joy  in  my  recognition  and  acceptance  of  his  greetings. 

I Were  I to  drive  him  off,  I should  wound  his  feelings  and  do  him  a moral 
injury.  It  would  be  an  offense  not  only  to  him,  but  to  all  the  spirits  of  the 
other  world  who  are  on  the  same  level  with  him.  The  damage  which  he 
I does  to  my  coat  is  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  wrong  which  I should 
I inflict  upon  him,  in  case  I were  to  remain  indifferent  to  the  manifestations 
I of  his  friendship.  We  ought,’  he  added,  ‘ both  to  lighten  the  condition  of 
I animals,  whenever  we  can,  and  at  the  same  time  to  facilitate  in  ourselves 
[ that  union  of  the  world  of  all  spirits,  which  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  has  made 
: possible.’  ” Andrd  Towianski,  Traduction  de  I’ltalien,  Turin,  1897  (pri- 
j vately  printed).  I owe  my  knowledge  of  this  book  and  of  Towianski  to  my 
I friend  Professor  W.  Lutoslawski,  author  of  ‘Plato’s  Logic.’ 


282 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ I went  down  the  drift  and  found  the  boy  crying  because 
a fellow-workman  was  trjdng  to  take  the  wagon  from  him  by 
force.  I said  to  him  : — 

“ ‘ Tom,  you  must  n’t  take  that  wagon.’ 

“ He  swore  at  me,  and  called  me  a Methodist  devil.  T told 
him  that  God  did  not  tell  me  to  let  him  rob  me.  He  cursed 
again,  and  said  he  would  push  the  wagon  over  me. 

“ ‘ Well,’  I said,  ‘let  us  see  whether  the  devil  and  thee  are 
stronger  than  the  Lord  and  me.’ 

“ And  the  Lord  and  I proving  stronger  than  the  devil  and 
he,  he  had  to  get  out  of  the  way,  or  the  wagon  would  have 
gone  over  him.  So  I gave  the  wagon  to  the  boy.  Then  said 
Tom : — 

“ ‘ I ’ve  a good  mind  to  smack  thee  on  the  face.’ 

“ ‘ Well,’  I said,  ‘ if  that  will  do  thee  any  good,  thou  canst 
do  it.’  So  he  struck  me  on  the  face. 

“ I turned  the  other  cheek  to  him,  and  said,  ‘ Strike  again.’ 

“ He  struck  again  and  again,  till  he  had  struck  me  five  times. 
I turned  my  cheek  for  the  sixth  stroke  ; but  he  turned  away 
cursing.  I shouted  after  him : ‘ The  Lord  forgive  thee,  for  I 
do,  and  the  Lord  save  thee.’ 

“ This  was  on  a Saturday ; and  when  I went  home  from  the 
coal-pit  my  wife  saw  my  face  was  swollen,  and  asked  what  was 
the  matter  with  it.  I said  : ‘ I ’ve  been  fighting,  and  I ’ve 
given  a man  a good  thrashing.’ 

“ She  burst  out  weeping,  and  said,  ‘ O Richard,  what  made 
you  fight  ? ’ Then  I told  her  all  about  it ; and  she  thanked  the 
Lord  I had  not  struck  back. 

“ But  the  Lord  had  struck,  and  his  blows  have  more  effect 
than  man’s.  Monday  came.  The  devil  began  to  tempt  me, 
saying  : ‘ The  other  men  will  laugh  at  thee  for  allowing  Tom 
to  treat  thee  as  he  did  on  Saturday.’  I cried,  ‘ Get  thee  behind 
me,  Satan  ; ’ - — and  went  on  my  way  to  the  coal-pit. 

“ Tom  was  the  first  man  I saw.  I said  ‘ Good-morning,’  but 
got  no  reply. 

“ He  went  down  first.  When  I got  down,  I was  surprised  to 
see  him  sitting  on  the  wagon-road  waiting  for  me.  When  I 
came  to  him  he  burst  into  tears  and  said : ‘ Richard,  will  you 
forgive  me  for  striking  you?’ 


SAINTLINESS 


283 


“ * I have  forgiven  thee,’  said  I ; ‘ ask  God  to  forgive  thee, 
j The  Lord  bless  thee.’  I gave  him  my  hand,  and  we  went  each 
j to  his  work.”  ^ 

‘ Love  your  enemies  ! ’ Mark  you,  not  simply  those  who 
^ happen  not  to  be  your  friends,  but  your  enemies,  your 
positive  and  active  enemies.  Either  this  is  a mere  Ori- 
, ental  hyperbole,  a bit  of  verbal  extravagance,  meaning 
; only  that  we  should,  as  far  as  we  can,  abate  our  animos- 
ities, or  else  it  is  sincere  and  literal.  Outside  of  certain 
cases  of  intimate  individual  relation,  it  seldom  has  been 
taken  literally.  Yet  it  makes  on^asl^the  question  : Can 
there  in  generalj)^a  level  of  emotion  so  unifying,  so  ob- 
literative of  differences  between  manjand  man^  that  even 
enmity  may  come  to  be  an  irrelevant  circumstance  and  fail 
to  inhibit  the  friendlier  interests  aroused  ? If  positive  weU- 
j wishing  could  attain  so  supreme  a degree^.f_excitement, 

; those  who  were  swayed  by  it  might  well  seem  sup^erhuman 
i beings.  Their  life  would  be  morally  discrete  from  the 
; life  of  other  men,  and  there  is  no  saying,  in  the  absence 
I of  positive  experience  of  an  authentic  kind,  — for  there 
1 are  few  active  examples  in  our  scriptures,  and  the  Bud- 
j dhistic  examples  are  legendary,^  — what  the  effects  might 
I be  : they  might  conceivably  transform  the  world. 

; Psychologically  and  in  principle,  the  precept  ^ Love 
I your  enemies  ’ is  not  self -contradictory.  It  is  merely  the 
extreme  Hmit  of  a kind  of  magnanimity  with  which,  in 
I the  shape  of  pitying  tolerance  of  our  oppressors,  we  are 
I fairly  familiar.  ,^^t  if  radically  followed,  it  would  in- 
volye  such  a breach  with  our  instinctive  springs  of  action 
I as  a wEoIeTandwrth  the  present  world’s  arrangements, 

J.  Patterson’s  Life  of  Richard  Weaver,  pp.  66-68,  abridged. 

^ As  where  the  future  Buddha,  incarnated  as  a hare,  jumps  into  the  fire 
j to  cook  himself  for  a meal  for  a beggar  — having  previously  shaken  him- 
I self  three  times,  so  that  none  of  the  insects  in  his  fur  should  per'sh  with 
him. 


284  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  a critical  point  would  practically  be  passed,  and  we 
should  be  born  into  another  kingdom  of  being.  Reli- 
gious emotion  makes  us  feel  that  other  kingdom  to  be 
close  at  hand,  within  our  reach. 

The  inhibition  of  instinctive  repugnance  is  proved  not 
only  by  the  showing  of  love  to  enemies,  but  by  the  show- 
ing of  it  to  any  one  who  is  personally  loathsome.  In  the 
annals  of  saintliness  we  find  a curious  mixture  of  motives 
impelhng  in  this  direction.  Asceticism  plays  its  part ; and 
along  with  charity  pure  and  simple,  we  find  humility  or 
the  desire  to  disclaim  distinction  and  to  grovel  on  the 
common  level  before  God.  Certainly  all  three  principles 
were  at  work  when  Francis  of  Assisi  and  Ignatius  Loyola 
exchanged  their  garments  with  those  of  filthy  beggars. 
All  three  are  at  work  when  religious  persons  consecrate 
their  lives  to  the  care  of  leprosy  or  other  peculiarly  un- 
pleasant diseases.  The  nursing  of  the  sick  is  a function 
to  which  the  religious  seem  strongly  drawn,  even  apart 
from  the  fact  that  church  traditions  set  that  way.  But  in 
the  annals  of  this  sort  of  charity  we  find  fantastic  excesses 
of  devotion  recorded  which  are  only  explicable  by  the 
frenzy  of  self-immolation  simultaneously  aroused.  Francis 
of  Assisi  kisses  his  lepers  ; Margaret  Mary  Alacoque,  Fran- 
cis Xavier,  St.  John  of  God,  and  others  are  said  to  have 
cleansed  the  sores  and  ulcers  of  their  patients  with  their 
respective  tongues ; and  the  lives  of  such  saints  as  Ehza- 
beth  of  Hungary  and  Madame  de  Chantal  are  full  of  a 
sort  of  reveling  in  hospital  purulence,  disagreeable  to 
read  of,  and  which  makes  us  admire  and  shudder  at  the 
same  time. 

So  much  for  the  human  love  aroused  by  the  faith- 
state.  Let  me  next  speak  of  the  Equanimity,  Resignation, 
Fortitude,  and  Patience  which  it  brings. 


SAIiTTLiNESS 


285 


‘ A paradise  of  inward  tranquillity  ’ seems  to  be  faith’s 
I usual  result ; and  it  is  easy,  even  without  being  rehgious 
I one’s  self,  to  understand  this.  A moment  back,  in  treat- 
ing of  the  sense  of  God’s  presence,  I spoke  of  the  unac- 
countable feehng  of  safety  which  one  may  then  have. 
And,  indeed,  how  can  it  possibly  fail  to  steady  the  nerves, 
to  cool  the  fever,  and  appease  the  fret,  if  one  be  sensibly 
conscious  that,  no  matter  what  one’s  difficulties  for  the 
moment  may  appear  to  be,  one’s  life  as  a whole  is  in 
the  keeping  of  a power  whom  one  can  absolutely  trust  ? 
In  deeply  religious  men  the  abandonment  of  self  to  this 
; power  is  passionate.  Whoever  not  only  says,  but  feels, 

‘ God’s  will  be  done,’  is  mailed  against  every  weakness  ; 
i and  the  whole  historic  array  of  martyrs,  missionaries,  and 
i religious  reformers  is  there  to  prove  the  tranquil-minded- 
I ness,  under  naturally  agitating  or  distressing  circum- 
; stances,  which  self-surrender  brings. 

The  temper  of  the  tranquil-mindedness  differs,  of 
j course,  according  as  the  person  is  of  a constitutionally 
j sombre  or  of  a constitutionally  cheerful  cast  of  mind. 

! In  the  sombre  it  partakes  more  of  resignation  and  sub- 
I mission  ; in  the  cheerful  it  is  a joyous  consent.  As  an 
j example  of  the  former  temper,  I quote  part  of  a letter 
I from  Professor  Lagneau,  a venerated  teacher  of  philosophy 
[ who  lately  died,  a great  invalid,  at  Paris  : — 

I “ My  life,  for  the  success  of  whieh  you  send  good  wishes, 
i will  be  what  it  is  able  to  be.  I ask  nothing  from  it,  I expect 
nothing  from  it.  For  long  years  now  I exist,  think,  and  act, 

I and  am  worth  what  I am  worth,  only  through  the  despair  which 
is  my  sole  strength  and  my  sole  foundation.  May  it  pre^rve  for 
I _ms«_even  in  these  last  trials  to  which  I am  comingT^Ee^courag:^ 
[ to  do  without  the  desire  of  deliverance.  I ask  nothing  more 
j from  the  Source  whence  all  strength  cometh,  and  if  that  is 
1 granted,  your  wishes  will  have  been  accomplished.”  ^ 

I 

I ^ Bulletin  de  I’Union  pour  I’Action  Morale,  September,  1894. 


286 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


There  is  something  pathetic  and  fatalistic  about  this^ 
but  the  power  of  such  a tone  as  a protection  against  out- 
ward shocks  is  manifest.  Pascal  is  another  Frenchman 
of  pessimistic  natural  temperament.  He  expresses  still 
more  amply  the  temper  of  self-surrendering  submissive- 
ness : — 

“ Deliver  me,  Lord,”  he  writes  in  his  prayers,  “ from  the  sad- 
ness at  my  proper  suffering  which  self-love  might  give,  but  put 
into  me  a sadness  like  your  own.  Let  my  sufferings  appease 
your  choler.  Make  them  an  occasion  for  my  conversion  and 
salvation.  I ask  you  neither  for  health  nor  for  sickness,  for 
life  nor  for  death  ; but  that  you  may  dispose  of  my  health  and 
my  sickness,  my  life  and  my  death,  for  your  glory,  for  my  sal- 
vation, and  for  the  use  of  the  Church  and  of  your  saints,  of 
whom  I would  by  your  grace  be  one.  You  alone  know  what  is 
expedient  for  me  ; you  are  the  sovereign  master ; do  with  me 
according  to  your  will.  Give  to  me,  or  take  away  from  me,  only 
conform  my  will  to  yours.  I know  but  one  thing.  Lord,  that 
it  is  good  to  follow  you,  and  bad  to  offend  you.  Apart  from 
that,  I know  not  what  is  good  or  bad  in  anything.  I know  not 
which  is  most  profitable  to  me,  health  or  sickness,  wealth  or 
poverty,  nor  anything  else  in  the  world.  That  discernment  is 
beyond  the  power  of  men  or  angels,  and  is  hidden  among  the 
secrets  of  your  Providence,  which  I adore,  but  do  not  seek  to 
fathom.”  ^ 

When  we  reach  more  optimistic  temperaments,  the 
resignation  grows  less  passive.  Examples  are  sown  so 
broadcast  throughout  history  that  I might  well  pass  on 
without  citation.  As  it  is,  I snatch  at  the  first  that  oc- 
curs to  my  mind.  Madame  Guyon,  a frail  creature  phy- 
sically, was  yet  of  a happy  native  disposition.  She  went 
through  many  perils  with  admirable  serenity  of  soul. 
After  being  sent  to  prison  for  heresy,  — 

“ Some  of  my  friends,”  she  writes,  “ wept  bitterly  at  the 
hearing  of  it,  but  such  was  my  state  of  acquiescence  and  resig- 
* B.  Pascal  ; Pri^res  pour  les  Maladies,  §§  xiii.,  xiv.,  abridged- 


SAINTLINESS 


287 


nation  that  it  failed  to  draw  any  tears  from  me.  . . . There 
appeared  to  be  in  me  then,  as  I find  it  to  be  in  me  now,  such 
an  entire  loss  of  what  regards  myself,  that  any  of  my  own 
interests  gave  me  little  pain  or  pleasure  ; ever  wanting  to  will 
ar  wish  for  myself  only  the  very  thing  which  God  does.”  In 
another  place  she  writes  : “We  aU  of  us  came  near  perishing 
in  a river  which  we  found  it  necessary  to  pass.  The  carriage 
sank  in  the  quicksand.  Others  who  were  with  us  threw  them- 
selves out  in  excessive  fright.  But  I found  my  thoughts  so 
much  taken  up  with  God  that  I had  no  distinct  sense  of  danger. 
It  is  true  that  the  thought  of  being  drowned  passed  across  my 
mind,  but  it  cost  no  other  sensation  or  refiection  in  me  than 
this  — that  I felt  quite  contented  and  willing  it  were  so,  if  it 
were  my  heavenly  Father’s  choice.”  Sailing  from  Nice  to 
Genoa,  a storm  keeps  her  eleven  days  at  sea.  “ As  the  irritated 
waves  dashed  round  us,”  she  writes,  “ I could  not  help  experi- 
encing a certain  degree  of  satisfaction  in  my  mind.  I pleased 
myself  with  thinking  that  those  mutinous  billows,  under  the 
command  of  Him  who  does  all  things  rightly,  might  probably 
furnish  me  with  a watery  grave.  Perhaps  I carried  the  point 
too  far,  in  the  pleasure  which  I took  in  thus  seeing  myself 
beaten  and  bandied  by  the  swelling  waters.  Those  who  were 
with  me  took  notice  of  my  intrepidity.”  ^ 

The  contempt  of  danger  which  religious  enthusiasm  pro- 
duces may  be  even  more  buoyant  still.  I take  an  example 
from  that  charming  recent  autobiography,  With  Christ 
at  Sea,”  by  Frank  Bullen.  A couple  of  days  after  he 
went  through  the  conversion  on  shipboard  of  which  he 
there  gives  an  account,  — 

“ It  was  blowing  stiffly,”  he  writes,  “ and  we  were  carrying 
a press  of  canvas  to  get  north  out  of  the  bad  weather.  Shortly 
after  four  bells  we  hauled  down  the  fiying-jib,  and  I sprang 
out  astride  the  boom  to  furl  it.  I was  sitting  astride  the  boom 
when  suddenly  it  gave  way  with  me.  The  sail  slipped  through 
my  fingers,  and  I fell  backwards,  hanging  head  downwards 

^ From  Thomas  C.  Upham’s  Life  and  Religious  Opinions  and  Experiences 
of  Madanae  de  la  Mothe  Guyon,  New  York,  1877,  ii.  48,  i.  141, 413,  abridged 


288 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


over  the  seething  tumult  of  shining  foam  under  the  ship’s  bows^ 
suspended  by  one  foot.  But  I felt  only  high  exultation  in  my 
certainty  of  eternal  life.  Although  death  was  divided  from 
me  by  a hair’s  breadth,  and  I was  acutely  conscious  of  the  fact, 
it  gave  me  no  sensation  but  joy.  I suppose  I could  have  hung 
there  no  longer  than  five  seconds,  but  in  that  time  I lived  a 
whole  age  of  delight.  But  my  body  asserted  itself,  and  with  a 
desperate  gymnastic  effort  I regained  the  boom.  How  I furled 
the  sail  I don’t  know,  but  I sang  at  the  utmost  pitch  of  my 
voice  praises  to  God  that  went  pealing  out  over  the  dark  waste 
of  waters.”  ^ 

The  annals  of  martyrdom  are  of  course  the  signal  field 
of  triumph  for  religious  imperturbability.  Let  me  cite 
as  an  example  the  statement  of  a humble  sufferer,  perse- 
cuted as  a Huguenot  under  Louis  XIV. : — 

“ They  shut  all  the  doors,”  Blanche  Gamond  writes,  “ and  I 
saw  six  women,  each  with  a bunch  of  willow  rods  as  thick  as 
the  hand  could  hold,  and  a yard  long.  He  gave  me  the  order, 
‘Undress  yourself,’  which  I did.  He  said,  ‘You  are  leaving  on 
your  shift ; you  must  take  it  off.’  They  had  so  little  patience 
that  they  took  it  off  themselves,  and  I was  naked  from  the 
waist  up.  They  brought  a cord  with  which  they  tied  me  to  a 
beam  in  the  kitchen.  They  drew  the  cord  tight  with  all  their 
strength  and  asked  me,  ‘Does  it  hurt  you?’  and  then  they  dis- 
charged tlieir  fury  upon  me,  exclaiming  as  they  struck  me, 
‘ Pray  now  to  your  God.’  It  was  the  Roulette  woman  who  held 
this  language.  But  at  this  moment  I received  the  greatest  con- 
solation that  I can  ever  receive  in  my  life,  since  I had  the 
honor  of  being  whipped  for  the  name  of  Christ,  and  in  addition 
of  being  crowned  with  his  mercy  and  his  consolations.  Why 
can  I not  write  down  the  inconceivable  influences,  consolations, 
and  peace  which  I felt  interiorly  ? To  understand  them  one 
must  have  passed  by  the  same  trial ; they  were  so  great  that  I 
was  ravished,  for  there  where  afflictions  abound  grace  is  given 
superabundantly.  In  vain  the  women  cried,  ‘We  must  double 
our  blows ; she  does  not  feel  them,  for  she  neither  speaks  nor 

^ Op.  cit.,  London,  1901,  p.  130. 


SAINTLINESS 


289 


cries.’  And  how  should  I have  cried,  since  I was  swooning 
with  happiness  within  ? ” ^ 

The  transition  from  tenseness,  self-responsibility,  and 
worry,  to  equanimity,  receptivity,  and  peace,  is  the  most 
wonderful  of  all  those  shiftings  of  inner  equilibrium, 
those  changes  of  the  personal  centre  of  energy,  which  I 
have  analyzed  so  often  ; and  the  chief  wonder  of  it  is 
that  it  so  often  comes  about,  not  by  doing,  but  by  simply 
relaxing  and  throwing  the  burden  down.  This  abandon- 
ment of  self-responsibihty  seems  to  be  the  fundamental 
act  in  specifically  religious,  as  distinguished  from  moral 
practice.  It  antedates  theologies  and  is  independent  of 
philosophies.  Mind-cure,  theosophy,  stoicism,  ordinary 
neurological  hygiene,  insist  on  it  as  emphatically  as 
Christianity  does,  and  it  is  capable  of  entering  into  closest 
marriage  with  every  speculative  creed.^  Christians  who 
have  it  strongly  live  in  what  is  called  ‘ recollection,’  and 
are  never  anxious  about  the  future,  nor  worry  over  the 
outcome  of  the  day.  Of  Saint  Catharine  of  Genoa  it  is 
said  that  “ she  took  cognizance  of  things,  only  as  they 
were  presented  to  her  in  succession,  moment  by  moment” 
To  her  holy  soul,  “ the  divine  moment  was  the  present 
moment,  . . . and  when  the  present  moment  was  esti- 
mated in  itself  and  in  its  relations,  and  when  the  duty 
that  was  involved  in  it  was  accomphshed,  it  was  permitted 
to  pass  away  as  if  it  had  never  been,  and  to  give  way  to 
the  facts  and  duties  of  the  moment  which  came  after.”  ® 

^ Claparede  et  Goty  : Deux  Heroines  de  la  Foi,  Paris,  1880,  p.  112. 

^ Compare  these  three  different  statements  of  it  : A.  P.  Call  : As  a Mat- 
ter of  Course,  Boston,  1894  ; H.  W.  Dresser  : Living  by  the  Spirit,  New 
York  and  London,  1900  ; H.  W.  Smith  : The  Christian’s  Secret  of  a Happy 
Life,  published  by  the  Willard  Tract  Repository,  and  now  in  thousands  of 
hands. 

® T.  C.  Upham:  Life  of  Madame  Catharine  Adorna,  3d  ed.,  New  York. 
1864,  pp.  158,  172-174, 


290  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Hinduism,  mind-cure,  and  theosophy  all  lay  great  em- 
phasis upon  this  concentration  of  the  consciousness  upon 
the  moment  at  hand. 

The  next  religious  symptom  which  I will  note  is  what 
I have  called  Purity  of  Life,  The  saintly  person  becomes 
exceedingly  sensitive  to  inner  inconsistency  or  discord, 
and  mixture  and  confusion  grow  intolerable.  All  the 
mind’s  objects  and  occupations  must  be  ordered  with 
reference  to  the  special  spiritual  excitement  which  is  now 
its  keynote.  Whatever  is  unspiritual  taints  the  pure 
water  of  the  soul  and  is  repugnant.  Mixed  with  this 
exaltation  of  the  moral  sensibilities  there  is  also  an  ardor 
of  sacrifice,  for  the  beloved  deity’s  sake,  of  everything 
unworthy  of  him.  Sometimes  the  spiritual  ardor  is  so 
sovereign  that  purity  is  achieved  at  a stroke  — we  have 
seen  examples.  Usually  it  is  a more  gradual  conquest. 
Billy  Bray’s  account  of  his  abandonment  of  tobacco  is  a 
good  example  of  the  latter  form  of  achievement. 

“ I had  been  a smoker  as  well  as  a drunkard,  and  I used  to 
love  my  tobacco  as  much  as  I loved  my  meat,  and  I would  rather 
go  down  into  the  mine  without  my  dinner  than  without  my  pipe. 
In  the  days  of  old,  the  Lord  spoke  by  the  mouths  of  his  ser- 
vants, the  prophets  ; now  he  speaks  to  us  by  the  spirit  of  his  Son. 
I had  not  only  the  feeling  part  of  religion,  but  I could  hear  the 
small,  still  voice  within  speaking  to  me.  When  I took  the  pipe 
to  smoke,  it  would  be  applied  within,  ‘ It  is  an  idol,  a lust ; wor- 
ship the  Lord  with  clean  lips.’  So,  I felt  it  was  not  right  to 
smoke.  The  Lord  also  sent  a woman  to  convince  me.  I was 
one  day  in  a house,  and  I took  out  my  pipe  to  light  it  at  the  fire, 
and  Mary  Hawke  — for  that  was  the  woman’s  name  — said, 
‘ Do  you  not  feel  it  is  wrong  to  smoke  ? ’ I said  that  I felt 
something  inside  telling  me  that  it  was  an  idol,  a lust,  and  she 
said  that  was  the  Lord.  Then  I said,  ‘ Now,  I must  give  it  up, 
for  the  Lord  is  telling  me  of  it  inside,  and  the  woman  outside, 


SAINTLINESS 


291 


so  the  tobacco  must  go,  love  it  as  I may.’  There  and  then  I 
took  the  tobacco  out  of  my  pocket,  and  threw  it  into  the  fire, 
and  put  the  pipe  under  my  foot,  ‘ ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust.’ 
And  I have  not  smoked  since.  I found  it  hard  to  break  off 
old  habits,  but  I cried  to  the  Lord  for  help,  and  he  gave  me 
strength,  for  he  has  said,  ‘ Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble, 
and  1 will  deliver  thee.’  The  day  after  I gave  up  smoking  I 
had  the  toothache  so  bad  that  I did  not  know  what  to  do.  I 
thought  this  was  owing  to  giving  up  the  pipe,  but  I said  I would 
never  smoke  again,  if  I lost  every  tooth  in  my  head.  I said, 
‘ Lord,  thou  hast  told  us  My  yoke  is  easy  and  my  burden  is 
light,’  and  when  I said  that,  all  the  pain  left  me.  Sometimes 
the  thought  of  the  pipe  would  come  back  to  me  very  strong  ; but 
the  Lord  strengthened  me  against  the  habit,  and,  bless  his 
name,  I have  not  smoked  since.” 

Bray’s  biographer  writes  that  after  he  had  given  up  smok- 
ing, he  thought  that  he  would  chew  a little,  but  he  conquered 
I this  dirty  habit,  too.  “ On  one  occasion,”  Bray  said,  “ when  at 
a prayer-meeting  at  Hicks  Mill,  I heard  the  Lord  say  to  me, 
‘ W orship  me  with  clean  lips.’  So,  when  we  got  up  from  our 
knees,  I took  the  quid  out  of  my  mouth  and  ‘ whipped  ’en  ’ 
[threw  it]  under  the  form.  But,  when  we  got  on  our  knees 
again,  I put  another  quid  into  my  mouth.  Then  the  Lord  said 
to  me  again,  ‘ Worship  me  with  clean  lips.’  So  I took  the  quid 
out  of  my  mouth,  and  whipped  ’en  under  the  form  again,  and 
said,  ‘ Yes,  Lord,  I will.’  From  that  time  I gave  up  chewing 
as  well  as  smoking,  and  have  been  a free  man.” 

The  ascetic  forms  which  the  impulse  for  veracity  and 
1 purity  of  life  may  take  are  often  pathetic  enough.  The 
: early  Quakers,  for  example,  had  hard  battles  to  wage 
against  the  worldliness  and  insincerity  of  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal Christianity  of  their  time.  Yet  the  battle  that  cost 
! them  most  wounds  was  probably  that  which  they  fought 
in  defense  of  their  own  right  to  social  veracity  and  sincer- 
' ity  in  their  thee-ing  and  thou-ing,  in  not  doffing  the  hat 
or  giving  titles  of  respect.  It  was  laid  on  George  Fox 


292  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  these  conventional  customs  were  a lie  and  a sham, 
and  the  whole  body  of  his  followers  thereupon  renounced 
them,  as  a.  sacrifice  to  truth,  and  so  that  their  acts  and 
the  spirit  they  professed  might  be  more  in  accord. 

“ When  the  Lord  sent  me  into  the  world,”  says  Fox  in  his 
Journal,  “ he  forbade  me  to  put  off  my  hat  to  any,  high  or  low ; 
and  I was  requii’ed  to  ‘thee’  and  ‘thou’  all  men  and  women, 
without  any  respect  to  rich  or  poor,  great  or  small.  And  as  I 
traveled  up  and  down,  I was  not  to  bid  people  Good-morning, 
or  Good-evening,  neither  might  I bow  or  scrape  with  my  leg  to 
any  one.  This  made  the  sects  and  professions  rage.  Oh  ! the 
rage  that  was  in  the  priests,  magistrates,  professors,  and  people 
of  all  soi’ts : and  especially  in  priests  and  professors  : for  though 
‘ thou  ’ to  a single  person  was  according  to  their  accidence  and 
grammar  rules,  and  according  to  the  Bible,  yet  they  could  not 
bear  to  hear  it : and  because  I could  not  put  off  my  hat  to  them, 
it  set  them  all  into  a rage.  . . . Oh ! the  scorn,  heat,  and  fury 
that  arose  ! Oh  ! the  blows,  punchings,  beatings,  and  imprison- 
ments that  we  underwent  for  not  putting  off  our  hats  to  men  ! 
Some  had  their  hats  violently  plucked  off  and  thrown  away,  so 
that  they  quite  lost  them.  The  bad  language  and  evil  usage 
we  received  on  this  account  is  hard  to  be  expressed,  besides  the 
danger  we  were  sometimes  in  of  losing  our  lives  for  this  mat- 
ter, and  that  by  the  great  professors  of  Christianity,  who  thereby 
discovered  they  were  not  true  believers.  And  though  it  was 
but  a small  thing  in  the  eye  of  man,  yet  a wonderful  confusion 
it  brought  among  all  professors  and  priests  ; but,  blessed  be 
the  Lord,  many  came  to  see  the  vanity  of  that  custom  of  put- 
ting off  hats  to  men,  and  felt  the  weight  of  Truth’s  testimony 
against  it.” 

In  the  autobiography  of  Thomas  Elwood,  an  early 
Quaker,  who  at  one  time  was  secretary  to  John  Milton,  we 
find  an  exquisitely  quaint  and  candid  account  of  the  trials 
he  underwent  both  at  home  and  abroad,  in  following 
Fox’s  canons  of  sincerity.  The  anecdotes  are  too  lengthy 
for  citation  ; but  Elwood  sets  down  his  manner  of  feeling 


SAINTLINESS 


293 


about  these  things  in  a shorter  passage,  which  I will 
quote  as  a characteristic  utterance  of  spiritual  sensibil- 

ity:  — 

“ By  this  divine  light,  then,”  says  Elwood,  “ I saw  that 
though  I had  not  the  evil  of  the  common  uncleanliness,  debauch- 
ery, profaneness,  and  pollutions  of  the  world  to  put  away,  be- 
cause I had,  through  the  great  goodness  of  God  and  a civil  edu- 
cation, been  preserved  out  of  those  grosser  evils,  yet  I had  many 
' ather  evils  to  put  away  and  to  cease  from  ; some  of  which  were 
not  by  the  world,  which  lies  in  wickedness  (1  John  v.  19),  ac- 
counted evils,  but  by  the  light  of  Christ  were  made  manifest  to 
me  to  be  evils,  and  as  such  condemned  in  me. 

“ As  particularly  those  fruits  and  effects  of  pride  that  dis- 
cover themselves  in  the  vanity  and  superfluity  of  apparel ; which 
I took  too  much  delight  in.  This  evil  of  my  doings  I was 
required  to  put  away  and  cease  from ; and  judgment  lay  upon 
I me  till  I did  so. 

“ I took  off  from  my  apparel  those  unnecessary  trimmings 
of  lace,  ribbons,  and  useless  buttons,  which  had  no  real  service, 
but  were  set  on  only  for  that  which  was  by  mistake  called 
ornament ; and  I ceased  to  wear  rings. 

“ Again,  the  giving  of  flattering  titles  to  men  between  whom 
and  me  there  was  not  any  relation  to  which  such  titles  could  be 
pretended  to  belong.  This  was  an  evil  I had  been  much 
addicted  to,  and  was  accounted  a ready  artist  in ; therefore 
this  evil  also  was  I required  to  put  away  and  cease  from.  So 
that  thenceforward  I durst  not  say.  Sir,  Master,  My  Lord, 
Madam  (or  My  Dame)  ; or  say  Your  Servant  to  any  one  to 
whom  I did  not  stand  in  the  real  relation  of  a servant,  which  I 
had  never  done  to  any. 

“ Again,  respect  of  persons,  in  uncovering  the  head  and  bow- 
ing the  knee  or  body  in  salutation,  was  a practice  I had  been 
much  in  the  use  of ; and  this,  being  one  of  the  vain  customs  of 
the  world,  introduced  by  the  spirit  of  the  world,  instead  of  the 
true  honor  which  this  is  a false  representation  of,  and  used  in 
deceit  as  a token  of  respect  by  persons  one  to  another,  who 
bear  no  real  respect  one  to  another ; and  besides  this,  being  a 


294  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


type  and  a proper  emblem  of  that  divine  honor  which  all  ought 
to  pay  to  Almighty  God,  and  which  all  of  all  sorts,  who  take 
upon  them  the  Christian  name,  appear  in  when  they  offer  their 
prayers  to  him,  and  therefore  should  not  be  given  to  men  ; — J 
found  this  to  be  one  of  those  evils  which  I had  been  too  long 
doing ; therefore  I was  now  required  to  put  it  away  and  cease 
from  it. 

“Again,  the  corrupt  and  unsound  form  of  speaking  in  the 
plural  number  to  a single  person,  you  to  one,  instead  of  thou, 
contrary  to  the  pure,  plain,  and  single  language  of  truth,  thou 
to  one,  and  you  to  more  than  one,  which  had  always  been  used 
by  God  to  men,  and  men  to  God,  as  well  as  one  to  another, 
from  the  oldest  record  of  time  till  corrupt  men,  for  corrupt 
ends,  in  later  and  corrupt  times,  to  flatter,  fawn,  and  work 
upon  the  corrupt  nature  in  men,  brought  in  that  false  and 
senseless  way  of  speaking  you  to  one,  which  has  since  corrupted 
the  modern  languages,  and  hath  greatly  debased  the  spirits  and 
depraved  the  manners  of  men ; — this  evil  custom  I had  been 
as  forward  in  as  others,  and  this  I was  now  called  out  of  and 
required  to  cease  from. 

“ These  and  many  more  evil  customs  which  had  sprung  up 
in  the  night  of  darkness  and  general  apostasy  from  the  truth 
and  true  religion  were  now,  by  the  inshining  of  this  pure  ray 
of  divine  light  in  my  conscience,  gradually  discovered  to  me  to 
be  what  I ought  to  cease  from,  shun,  and  stand  a witness 
against.”  ^ 

These  early  Quakers  were  Puritans  indeed.  The  slight- 
est inconsistency  between  profession  and  deed  jarred  some 
of  them  to  active  protest.  John  Woolman  writes  in  his 
diary : — 

“ In  these  journeys  I have  been  where  much  cloth  hath  been 
dyed ; and  have  at  sundry  times  walked  over  ground  where 
much  of  their  dyestuffs  has  drained  away.  This  hath  produced 
a longing  in  my  mind  that  people  might  come  into  cleanness 
of  spirit,  cleanness  of  person,  and  cleanness  about  their  houses 

• The  History  of  Thomas  Elwood,  written  by  Himself,  London,  1885, 
pp.  32-34. 


SAINTLINESS 


295 


and  garments.  Dyes  being  invented  partly  to  please  the  eye, 
and  partly  to  hide  dirt,  I have  felt  in  this  weak  state,  when 
traveling  in  dirtiness,  and  affected  with  unwholesome  scents,  a 
strong  desire  that  the  nature  of  dyeing  cloth  to  hide  dirt  may 
be  more  fully  considered. 

“ Washing  our  garments  to  keep  them  sweet  is  cleanly,  but 
it  is  the  opposite  to  real  cleanliness  to  hide  dirt  in  them. 
Through  giving  way  to  hiding  dirt  in  our  garments  a spirit 
which  would  conceal  that  which  is  disagreeable  is  strengthened. 
Keal  cleanliness  becometh  a holy  people ; but  hiding  that  which 
is  not  clean  by  coloring  our  garments  seems  contrary  to  the 
sweetness  of  sincerity.  Through  some  sorts  of  dyes  cloth  is 
rendered  less  useful.  And  if  the  value  of  dyestuffs,  and  ex- 
pense of  dyeing,  and  the  damage  done  to  cloth,  were  all  added 
together,  and  that  cost  applied  to  keeping  all  sweet  and  clean, 
how  much  more  would  real  cleanliness  prevail. 

“ Thinking  often  on  these  things,  the  use  of  hats  and  gar- 
ments dyed  with  a dye  hurtful  to  them,  and  wearing  more 
clothes  in  summer  than  are  useful,  grew  more  uneasy  to  me ; 
believing  them  to  be  customs  which  have  not  their  foundation 
in  pure  wisdom.  The  apprehension  of  being  singular  from  my 
beloved  friends  was  a strait  upon  me ; and  thus  I continued  in 
the  use  of  some  things,  contrary  to  my  judgment,  about  nine 
months.  Then  I thought  of  getting  a hat  the  natural  color  of 
the  fur,  but  the  apprehension  of  being  looked  upon  as  one  affect- 
ing singularity  felt  uneasy  to  me.  On  this  account  I was  under 
close  exercise  of  mind  in  the  time  of  our  general  spring  meet- 
ing in  1762,  greatly  desiring  to  be  rightly  directed  ; when,  being 
deeply  bowed  in  spirit  before  the  Lord,  I was  made  willing  to 
submit  to  what  I apprehended  was  required  of  me ; and  when 
I returned  home,  got  a hat  of  the  natural  color  of  the  fur. 

“ In  attending  meetings,  this  singularity  was  a trial  to  me, 
and  more  especially  at  this  time,  as  white  hats  were  used  by 
some  who  were  fond  of  following  the  changeable  modes  of 
dress,  and  as  some  friends,  who  knew  not  from  what  motives  I 
wore  it,  grew  shy  of  me,  I felt  my  way  for  a time  shut  up  in 
the  exercise  of  the  ministry.  Some  friends  were  apprehensive 
that  my  wearing  such  a hat  savored  of  an  affected  singularity : 


296  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


those  who  spoke  with  me  in  a friendly  way,  I generally  informed 
in  a few  words,  that  I believed  my  wearing  it  was  not  in  my 
own  will.” 

When  the  craving  for  moral  consistency  and  purity  is 
developed  to  this  degree,  the  subject  may  well  find  the 
outer  world  too  full  of  shocks  to  dwell  in,  and  can  unify 
his  life  and  keep  his  soul  unspotted  only  by  withdrawing 
from  it.  That  law  which  nnpels  the  artist  to  achieve 
harmony  in  his  composition  by  simply  dropping  out  what- 
ever jars,  or  suggests  a discord,  rules  also  in  the  spiritual 
life.  To  omit,  says  Stevenson,  is  the  one  art  in  litera- 
ture : “ If  1 knew  how  to  omit,  I should  ask  no  other 
knowledge.”  And  life,  when  full  of  disorder  and  slack- 
ness and  vague  superfluity,  can  no  more  have  what  we 
call  character  than  literature  can  have  it  under  similar 
conditions.  So  monasteries  and  communities  of  sympa- 
thetic devotees  open  their  doors,  and  in  their  changeless 
order,  characterized  by  omissions  quite  as  much  as  con- 
stituted of  actions,  the  holy-minded  person  finds  that 
inner  smoothness  and  cleanness  which  it  is  torture  to 
him  to  feel  violated  at  every  turn  by  the  discordancy 
and  brutality  of  secular  existence. 

That  the  scrupulosity  of  purity  may  be  carried  to  a 
fantastic  extreme  must  be  admitted.  In  this  it  resembles 
Asceticism,  to  which  further  symptom  of  saintliness  we 
had  better  turn  next.  The  adjective  ‘ ascetic  ’ is  applied 
to  conduct  originating  on  diverse  psychological  levels, 
which  I might  as  well  begin  by  distinguishing  from  one 
another. 

1.  Asceticism  may  be  a mere  expression  of  organic 
hardihood,  disgusted  with  too  much  ease. 

2.  Temperance  in  meat  and  drink,  simplicity  of  ap 


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parel,  chastity,  and  non-pampering  of  the  body  generally, 
may  he  fruits  of  the  love  of  purity,  shocked  by  whatever 
savors  of  the  sensual. 

3.  They  may  also  be  fruits  of  love,  that  is,  they  may 
appeal  to  the  subject  in  the  light  of  sacrifices  which  he 
is  happy  in  making  to  the  Deity  whom  he  acknowledges. 

4.  Again,  ascetic  mortifications  and  torments  may  be 
due  to  pessimistic  feelings  about  the  self,  combined  with 
theological  beliefs  concerning  expiation.  The  devotee 
may  feel  that  he  is  buying  himself  free,  or  escaping 
worse  sufferings  hereafter,  by  doing  penance  now. 

5.  In  psychopathic  persons,  mortifications  may  be 
entered  on  irrationally,  by  a sort  of  obsession  or  fixed 
idea  which  comes  as  a challenge  and  must  be  worked 
off,  because  only  thus  does  the  subject  get  his  interior 
consciousness  feeling  right  again. 

6.  Finally,  ascetic  exercises  may  in  rarer  instances  be 
prompted  by  genuine  perversions  of  the  bodily  sensibility, 
in  consequence  of  which  normally  pain-giving  stimuli  are 
actually  felt  as  pleasures. 

I will  try  to  give  an  instance  under  each  of  these  heads 
in  turn ; but  it  is  not  easy  to  get  them  pure,  for  in  cases 
pronounced  enough  to  be  immediately  classed  as  ascetic, 
several  of  the  assigned  motives  usually  work  together. 
Moreover,  before  citing  any  examples  at  all,  I must  in- 
vite you  to  some  general  psychological  considerations 
which  apply  to  all  of  them  alike. 

A strange  moral  transformation  has  within  the  past 
century  swept  over  our  Western  world.  We  no  longer 
think  that  we  are  called  on  to  face  physical  pain  with 
equanimity.  It  is  not  expected  of  a man  that  he  should 
either  endure  it  or  inflict  much  of  it,  and  to  Hsten  to 
the  recital  of  cases  of  it  makes  our  flesh  creep  morally 
as  well  as  physically.  The  way  in  which  our  ancestors 


898  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

looked  upon  pain  as  an  eternal  ingredient  of  the  world’s 
order,  and  both  caused  and  suffered  it  as  a matter-of- 
course  portion  of  their  day’s  work,  fills  us  with  amaze- 
ment. We  wonder  that  any  human  beings  could  have 
been  so  callous.  The  result  of  this  historic  alteration  is 
that  even  in  the  Mother  Church  herself,  where  ascetic 
discipline  has  such  a fixed  traditional  prestige  as  a factor 
of  merit,  it  has  largely  come  into  desuetude,  if  not  dis- 
credit. A believer  who  flagellates  or  ‘ macerates  ’ him- 
self to-day  arouses  more  wonder  and  fear  than  emulation. 
Many  Catholic  writers  who  admit  that  the  times  have 
changed  in  this  respect  do  so  resignedly ; and  even  add 
that  perhaps  it  is  as  well  not  to  waste  feehngs  in  regret- 
ting the  matter,  for  to  return  to  the  heroic  corporeal 
discipline  of  ancient  days  might  be  an  extravagance. 

Where  to  seek  the  easy  and  the  pleasant  seems  instinc- 
tive — and  instinctive  it  appears  to  be  in  man ; any  de- 
liberate tendency  to  pursue  the  hard  and  painful  as  such 
and  for  their  own  sakes  might  well  strike  one  as  purely 
abnormal.  Nevertheless,  in  moderate  degrees  it  is  natural 
and  even  usual  to  human  nature  to  court  the  arduous.  It 
is  only  the  extreme  manifestations  of  the  tendency  that 
can  be  regarded  as  a paradox. 

The  psychological  reasons  for  this  lie  near  the  surface. 
When  we  drop  abstractions  and  take  what  we  call  our 
will  in  the  act,  we  see  that  it  is  a very  complex  fimction. 
It  involves  both  stimulations  and  inhibitions  ; it  follows 
generalized  habits  ; it  is  escorted  by  reflective  criticisms  ; 
and  it  leaves  a good  or  a bad  taste  of  itself  behind, 
according  to  the  manner  of  the  performance.  The  result 
is  that,  quite  apart  from  the  immediate  pleasure  which 
any  sensible  experience  may  give  us,  oiu*  own  general 
moral  attitude  in  procuring  or  undergoing  the  experience 
brings  with  it  a secondary  satisfaction  or  distaste.  Some 


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men  and  women,  indeed,  there  are  who  can  live  on  smiles 
and  the  word  ‘yes’  forever.  But  for  others  (indeed  for 
most),  this  is  too  tepid  and  relaxed  a moral  climate.  Pas- 
sive happiness  is  slack  and  insipid,  and  soon  grows  mawk- 
ish and  intolerable.  Some  austerity  and  wintry  negativity, 
some  roughness,  danger,  stringency,  and  effort,  some 
‘ no  ! no  ! ’ must  be  mixed  in,  to  produce  the  sense  of  an 
existence  with  character  and  texture  and  power.  The 
range  of  individual  differences  in  this  respect  is  enor- 
mous ; but  whatever  the  mixture  of  yeses  and  noes  may 
be,  the  person  is  infallibly  aware  when  he  has  struck  it 
in  the  right  proportion  for  him.  This,  he  feels,  is  my 
proper  vocation,  this  is  the  optimum,  the  law,  the  life  for 
me  to  live.  Here  I find  the  degree  of  equihbrium,  safety, 
calm,  and  leisure  which  I need,  or  here  I find  the  chal- 
lenge, passion,  fight,  and  hardship  without  which  my 
soul’s  energy  expires. 

Every  individual  soul,  in  short,  like  every  individual 
machine  or  organism,  has  its  own  best  conditions  of  efil- 
ciency.  A given  machine  will  run  best  under  a certain 
steam-pressure,  a certain  amperage  ; an  organism  under  a 
certain  diet,  weight,  or  exercise.  You  seem  to  do  best, 
I heard  a doctor  say  to  a patient,  at  about  140  milli- 
meters of  arterial  tension.  And  it  is  just  so  with  our 
sundry  souls:  some  are  happiest  in  calm  weather;  some 
need  the  sense  of  tension,  of  strong  volition,  to  make 
them  feel  alive  and  well.  For  these  latter  souls,  whatever 
is  gained  from  day  to  day  must  be  paid  for  by  sacrifice 
and  inhibition,  or  else  it  comes  too  cheap  and  has  no  zest. 

Now  when  characters  of  this  latter  sort  become  reli- 
gious, they  are  apt  to  turn  the  edge  of  their  need  of  effort 
and  negativity  against  their  natural  self ; and  the  ascetic 
life  gets  evolved  as  a consequence. 

When  Professor  TyndaU  in  one  of  his  lectures  tells  us 


300  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  Thomas  Carlyle  put  him  into  his  bath-tub  every 
morning  of  a freezing  Berlin  winter,  he  proclaimed  one 
of  the  lowest  grades  of  asceticism.  Even  without  Car- 
lyle, most  of  us  find  it  necessary  to  our  soul’s  health  to 
start  the  day  with  a rather  cool  immersion.  A little  far- 
ther along  the  scale  we  get  such  statements  as  this,  from 
one  of  my  correspondents,  an  agnostic  : — 

“ Often  at  night  in  my  warm  bed  I would  feel  ashamed  to 
depend  so  on  the  warmth,  and  whenever  the  thought  would 
come  over  me  I would  have  to  get  up,  no  matter  what  time  of 
night  it  was,  and  stand  for  a minute  in  the  cold,  just  so  as  to 
prove  my  manhood.” 

Such  cases  as  these  belong  simply  to  our  head  1.  In 
the  next  case  we  probably  have  a mixture  of  heads  2 
and  3 — the  asceticism  becomes  far  more  systematic  and 
pronounced.  The  writer  is  a Protestant,  whose  sense  of 
moral  energy  could  doubtless  be  gratified  on  no  lower 
terms,  and  I take  his  case  from  Starbuck’s  manuscript 
collection. 

“ I practiced  fasting  and  mortification  of  the  flesh.  I secretly 
made  burlap  shirts,  and  put  the  burrs  next  the  skin,  and  wore 
pebbles  in  my  shoes.  I would  spend  nights  fiat  on  my  back  on 
the  floor  without  any  covering.” 

The  Roman  Church  has  organized  and  codified  all  this 
sort  of  thing,  and  given  it  a market-value  in  the  shape  of 
‘ merit.’  But  we  see  the  cultivation  of  hardship  cropping 
out  under  every  sky  and  in  every  faith,  as  a spontaneous 
need  of  character.  Thus  we  read  of  Channing,  when 
first  settled  as  a Unitarian  minister,  that  — 

“ He  was  now  more  simple  than  ever,  and  seemed  to  have 
become  incapable  of  any  form  of  self-indulgence.  He  took  the 
smallest  room  in  the  house  for  his  study,  though  he  might  easily 
have  commanded  one  more  light,  airy,  and  in  every  way  more 
suitable  ; and  chose  for  his  sleeping  chamber  an  attic  which  he 


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shared  with  a younger  brother.  The  furniture  of  the  latter 
might  have  answered  for  the  cell  of  an  anchorite,  and  consisted 
of  a hard  mattress  on  a cot-bedstead,  plain  wooden  chairs  and 
table,  with  matting  on  the  floor.  It  was  without  fire,  and  to 
cold  he  was  throughout  life  extremely  sensitive ; but  he  never 
complained  or  appeared  in  any  way  to  be  conscious  of  incon- 
venience. ‘ I recollect,’  says  his  brother,  ‘ after  one  most  severe 
night,  that  in  the  morning  he  sportively  thus  alluded  to  his 
suffering ; “ If  my  bed  were  my  country,  I should  be  somewhat 
like  Bonaparte : I have  no  control  except  over  the  part  which 
I occupy ; the  instant  I move,  frost  takes  possession.”  ’ In 
sickness  only  would  he  change  for  the  time  his  apartment 
and  accept  a few  comforts.  The  dress  too  that  he  habitually 
adopted  was  of  most  inferior  quality  ; and  garments  were  con- 
stantly worn  which  the  world  would  call  mean,  though  an  almost 
feminine  neatness  preserved  him  from  the  least  appearance 
of  neglect.”  ^ 

Channing’s  asceticism,  such  as  it  was,  was  evidently  a 
compound  of  hardihood  and  love  of  purity.  The  demo- 
cracy which  is  an  offshoot  of  the  enthusiasm  of  humanity, 
and  of  which  I will  speak  later  xmder  the  head  of  the 
cult  of  poverty,  doubtless  bore  also  a share.  Certainly 
there  was  no  pessimistic  element  in  his  case.  In  the  next 
case  we  have  a strongly  pessimistic  element,  so  that  it 
belongs  under  head  4.  John  Cennick  was  Methodism’s 
first  lay  preacher.  In  1735  he  was  convicted  of  sin, 
while  walking  in  Cheapside,  — 

“ And  at  once  left  off  song-singing,  card-playing,  and  attend- 
ing theatres.  Sometimes  he  wished  to  go  to  a popish  monastery, 
to  spend  his  life  in  devout  retirement.  At  other  times  he  longed 
to  live  in  a cave,  sleeping  on  fallen  leaves,  and  feeding  on 
forest  fruits.  He  fasted  long  and  often,  and  prayed  nine  times 
a day.  . . . Fancying  dry  bread  too  great  an  indulgence  for  so 
great  a sinner  as  himself,  he  began  to  feed  on  potatoes,  acorns, 
crabs,  and  grass ; and  often  wished  that  he  could  live  on  roots 

1 Memoirs  of  W.  E.  Chanuing,  Boston,  1840,  i.  196. 


302  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  herbs.  At  length,  in  1737,  he  found  peace  with  God,  and 
went  on  his  way  rejoicing.”  ^ 

In  this  poor  man  we  have  morhid  melancholy  and  fear, 
and  the  sacrifices  made  are  to  purge  out  sin,  and  to  buy; 
safety.  The  hopelessness  of  Christian  theology  in  respect 
of  the  flesh  and  the  natural  man  generally  has,  in  sys- 
tematizing fear,  made  of  it  one  tremendous  incentive  to 
self-mortification.  It  would  be  quite  unfair,  however,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  this  incentive  has  often  been  worked 
in  a mercenary  way  for  hortatory  purposes,  to  call  it  a 
mercenary  incentive.  The  impidse  to  expiate  and  do 
penance  is,  in  its  first  intention,  far  too  immediate  and 
spontaneous  an  expression  of  self-despair  and  anxiety  to 
be  obnoxious  to  any  such  reproach.  In  the  form  of  lov- 
ing sacrifice,  of  spending  all  we  have  to  show  our  devo- 
tion, ascetic  discipline  of  the  severest  sort  may  be  the 
fruit  of  highly  optimistic  religious  feeling. 

M.  Vianney,  the  cure  of  Ars,  was  a French  country 
priest,  whose  holiness  was  exemplary.  We  read  in  his 
life  the  following  account  of  his  inner  need  of  sacri- 
fice : — 

“ ‘ On  this  path,’  M.  Vianney  said,  ‘ it  is  only  the  first  step 
that  costs.  There  is  in  mortification  a balm  and  a savor  with- 
out which  one  cannot  live  when  once  one  has  made  their  ac- 
quaintance. There  is  but  one  way  in  which  to  give  one’s  self 
to  God,  — that  is,  to  give  one’s  self  entirely,  and  to  keep  nothing 
for  one’s  self.  The  little  that  one  keeps  is  only  good  to  trouble 
one  and  make  one  suffer.’  Accordingly  he  imposed  it  on  him- 
self that  he  should  never  smell  a flower,  never  drink  when 
parched  with  thirst,  never  drive  away  a fly,  never  show  disgust 
before  a repugnant  object,  never  complain  of  anything  that  had 
to  do  with  his  personal  comfort,  never  sit  down,  never  lean 
upon  his  elbows  when  he  was  kneeling.  The  Cure  of  Ars  was 
very  sensitive  to  cold,  but  he  would  never  take  means  to  pro-. 

^ L.  Tyerman  : The  Life  and  Times  of  the  Rev.  John  Wesley,  i.  274. 


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tect  himself  against  it.  During  a very  severe  winter,  one  of  his 
missionaries  contrived  a false  floor  to  his  confessional  and  placed 
a metal  case  of  hot  water  beneath.  The  trick  succeeded,  and 
the  Saint  was  deceived : ‘ God  is  very  good,’  he  said  with 
emotion.  ‘ This  year,  through  all  the  cold,  my  feet  have  always 
been  warm.’  ” ^ 

In  this  case  the  spontaneous  impulse  to  make  sacrifices 
for  the  pure  love  of  God  was  probably  the  uppermost 
conscious  motive.  We  may  class  it,  then,  under  our  head 
3.  Some  authors  think  that  the  impulse  to  sacrifice  is 
the  main  religious  phenomenon.  It  is  a prominent,  a 
universal  phenomenon  certainly,  and  hes  deeper  than 
any  special  creed.  Here,  for  instance,  is  what  seems  to 
be  a spontaneous  example  of  it,  simply  expressing  what 
seemed  right  at  the  time  between  the  individual  and  his 
jMaker.  Cotton  Mather,  the  New  England  Puritan  divine, 
is  generally  reputed  a rather  grotesque  pedant ; yet  what 
is  more  touchingly  simple  than  his  relation  of  what  hap- 
pened when  his  wife  came  to  die  ? 

“ When  I saw  to  what  a point  of  resignation  I was  now 
Balled  of  the  Lord,”  he  says,  “ I resolved,  with  his  help,  therein 
bo  glorify  him.  So,  two  hours  before  my  lovely  consort  expired, 
1 kneeled  by  her  bedside,  and  I took  into  my  two  hands  a dear 
hand,  the  dearest  in  the  world.  With  her  thus  in  my  hands, 
I solemnly  and  sincerely  gave  her  up  unto  the  Lord  : and 
in  token  of  my  real  Resignation,  I gently  put  her  out  of  my 
hands,  and  laid  away  a most  lovely  hand,  resolving  that  I would 
uever  touch  it  more.  This  was  the  hardest,  and  perhaps  the 
bravest  action  that  ever  I did.  She  . . . told  me  that  she 
signed  and  sealed  my  act  of  resignation.  And  though  before 
bhat  she  called  for  me  continually,  she  after  this  never  asked 
for  me  any  more.”  ^ 

^ A.  Moitnin  : Le  Curd  d’Ars,  Vie  de  M.  J.  B.  M.  Vianney,  1864,  p.  546, 
ibridged. 

* B.  Wendell  : Cotton  Mather,  New  York,  no  date,  p.  198. 


304  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Father  Vianney’s  asceticism  taken  in  its  totality  was 
simply  the  result  of  a permanent  flood  of  high  spiritua 
enthusiasm,  longing  to  make  proof  of  itself.  The  Romai 
Church  has,  in  its  incomparable  fashion,  collected  all  th( 
motives  towards  asceticism  together,  and  so  codified  then 
that  any  one  wishing  to  pursue  Christian  perfection  maj 
find  a practical  system  mapped  out  for  him  in  any  om 
of  a number  of  ready-made  manuals.^  The  dominani 
Church  notion  of  perfection  is  of  course  the  negativt 
one  of  avoidance  of  sin.  Sin  proceeds  from  concupiscence 
and  concupiscence  from  our  carnal  passions  and  tempta 
tions,  chief  of  which  are  pride,  sensuality  in  all  its  forms 
and  the  loves  of  worldly  excitement  and  possession.  A1 
these  sources  of  sin  must  be  resisted ; and  discipline  anc 
austerities  are  a most  efficacious  mode  of  meeting  them 
Hence  there  are  always  in  these  books  chapters  on  self 
mortification.  But  whenever  a procedure  is  codified,  th( 
more  delicate  spirit  of  it  evaporates,  and  if  we  wish  th( 
undiluted  ascetic  spirit,  — the  passion  of  self-contempi 
wreaking  itself  on  the  poor  flesh,  the  divine  irrationality 
of  devotion  making  a sacrificial  gift  of  all  it  has  (its  sen 
sibilities,  namely)  to  the  object  of  its  adoration,  — we  musi 
go  to  autobiographies,  or  other  individual  documents.  j 

Saint  John  of  the  Cross,  a Spanish  mystic  who  flour* 
ished  — or  rather  who  existed,  for  there  was  little  tha^ 
suggested  flourishing  about  him  — in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, will  supply  a passage  suitable  for  our  purpose. 

“ First  of  all,  carefully  excite  in  yourself  an  habitual  affeo 
donate  will  in  all  things  to  imitate  Jesus  Christ.  If  anything 
agreeable  offers  itself  to  your  senses,  yet  does  not  at  the  same 

' That  of  the  earlier  Jesuit,  Rodriguez,  which  has  been  translated  intd 
all  languages,  is  one  of  the  best  known.  A convenient  modern  manual,  ver]| 
well  put  together,  is  L’Asc^tique  Chr^tienne,  by  M.  J.  Ribet,  Paris,  Pousj. 
sielgue,  nouvelle  edition,  1898. 


SAINTLINESS 


306 


time  tend  purely  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  God,  renounce  it  and 
separate  yourself  from  it  for  the  love  of  Christ,  who  all  his  life 
long  had  no  other  taste  or  wish  than  to  do  the  will  of  his  Father 
whom  he  called  his  meat  and  nourishment.  For  example,  you 
take  satisfaction  in  hearing  of  things  in  which  the  glory  of  God 
bears  no  part.  Deny  yourself  this  satisfaction,  mortify  your 
wish  to  listen.  You  take  pleasure  in  seeing  objects  which  do 
not  raise  your  mind  to  God : refuse  yourself  this  pleasure,  and 
turn  away  your  eyes.  The  same  with  conversations  and  all 
other  things.  Act  similarly,  so  far  as  you  are  able,  with  all  the 
operations  of  the  senses,  striving  to  make  yourself  free  from 
their  yokes. 

“ The  radical  remedy  lies  in  the  mortification  of  the  four 
great  natural  passions,  joy,  hope,  fear,  and  grief.  You  must 
seek  to  deprive  these  of  every  satisfaction  and  leave  them  as  it 
were  in  darkness  and  the  void.  Let  your  soul  therefore  turn 
always  : 

“Not  to  what  is  most  easy,  but  to  what  is  hardest ; 

“ Not  to  what  tastes  best,  but  to  what  is  most  distasteful; 

“ Not  to  what  most  pleases,  but  to  what  disgusts ; 

“ Not  to  matter  of  consolation,  but  to  matter  for  desolation 
rather  ; 

“ Not  to  rest,  but  to  labor  , 

“ Not  to  desire  the  more,  but  the  less ; 

“ Not  to  aspire  to  what  is  highest  and  most  precious,  but  to 
what  is  lowest  and  most  contemptible ; 

“ Not  to  will  anything,  but  to  will  nothing ; 

“ Not  to  seek  the  best  in  everything,  but  to  seek  the  worst,  so 
ehat  you  may  enter  for  the  love  of  Christ  into  a complete  desti 
tution,  a perfect  poverty  of  spirit,  and  an  absolute  renunciation 
of  everything  in  this  world. 

“ Embrace  these  practices  with  all  the  energy  of  your  soul 
and  you  will  find  in  a short  time  great  delights  and  unspeakable 
consolations. 

“ Despise  yourself,  and  wish  that  others  should  despise  you. 

“ Speak  to  your  own  disadvantage,  and  desire  others  to  do  the 
same ; 

“ Conceive  a low  opinion  of  yourself,  and  find  it  good  when 
others  hold  the  same ; 


306  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ To  enjoy  the  taste  of  all  things,  have  no  taste  for  anything 

“ To  know  all  things,  learn  to  know  nothing. 

“ To  possess  all  things,  resolve  to  possess  nothing, 

“ To  be  all  things,  be  willing  to  be  nothing. 

“ To  get  to  where  you  have  no  taste  for  anything,  go  through 
whatever  experiences  you  have  no  taste  for. 

“ To  learn  to  know  nothing,  go  whither  you  are  ignorant. 

“ To  reach  what  you  possess  not,  go  whithersoever  you  own 
nothing. 

“ To  be  what  you  are  not,  experience  what  you  are  not.” 

These  later  verses  play  with  that  vertigo  of  self-contra- 
diction which  is  so  dear  to  mysticism.  Those  that  come! 
next  are  completely  mystical,  for  in  them  Saint  John 
passes  from  God  to  the  more  metaphysical  notion  of  the 
All. 

“ When  you  stop  at  one  thing,  you  cease  to  open  yourself  to 
the  All. 

“ For  to  come  to  the  All  you  must  give  up  the  All. 

“ And  if  you  should  attain  to  owning  the  All,  you  must  own 
it,  desiring  Nothing. 

“ In  this  spoliation,  the  soul  finds  its  tranquillity  and  rest. 
Profoundly  established  in  the  centre  of  its  own  nothingness,  it 
can  be  assailed  by  naught  that  comes  from  below ; and  since 
it  no  longer  desires  anything,  what  comes  from  above  cannot 
depress  it;  for  its  desires  alone  are  the  causes  of  its  woes.”  ^ 

And  now,  as  a more  concrete  example  of  heads  4 and 
5,  in  fact  of  all  our  heads  together,  and  of  the  irrational 
extreme  to  which  a psychopathic  individual  may  go  in  the 
line  of  bodily  austerity,  I will  quote  the  sincere  Suso’s 
account  of  his  own  self-tortures.  Suso,  you  will  remem- 
ber, was  one  of  the  fourteenth  century  German  mystics ; 
his  autobiography,  written  in  the  third  person,  is  a classic 
religious  document. 

* Saint  Jean  de  la  Croix,  Vie  et  (Euvres,  Paris,  1893,  ii.  94,  99 
abridged 


SAINTLINESS 


307 


“ He  was  in  his  youth  of  a temperament  full  of  fire  and  life  ; 
ind  when  this  began  to  make  itself  felt,  it  was  very  grievous  to 
him ; and  he  sought  by  many  devices  how  he  might  bring  his 
body  into  subjection.  He  wore  for  a long  time  a hair  shirt  and 
an  iron  chain,  until  the  blood  ran  from  him,  so  that  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  them  off.  He  secretly  caused  an  undergarment 
to  be  made  for  him ; and  in  the  undergarment  he  had  strips  of 
leather  fixed,  into  which  a hundred  and  fifty  brass  nails,  pointed 
and  filed  sharp,  were  driven,  and  the  points  of  the  nails  were 
always  turned  towards  the  flesh.  He  had  this  garment  made 
very  tight,  and  so  arranged  as  to  go  round  him  and  fasten  in 
front,  in  order  that  it  might  fit  the  closer  to  his  body,  and  the 
pointed  nails  might  be  driven  into  his  flesh ; and  it  was  high 
enough  to  reach  upwards  to  his  navel.  In  this  he  used  to  sleep 
at  night.  Now  in  summer,  when  it  was  hot,  and  he  was  very 
tired  and  ill  from  his  journeyings,  or  when  he  held  the  office  of 
lecturer,  he  would  sometimes,  as  he  lay  thus  in  bonds,  and 
[Oppressed  with  toil,  and  tormented  also  by  noxious  insects,  cry 
aloud  and  give  way  to  fretfulness,  and  twist  round  and  round  in 
agony,  as  a worm  does  when  run  through  with  a pointed  needle. 
It  often  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  lying  upon  an  ant-hill, 
from  the  torture  caused  by  the  insects;  for  if  he  wished  to 
sleep,  or  when  he  had  fallen  asleep,  they  vied  with  one  another.^ 
Sometimes  he  cried  to  Almighty  God  in  the  fullness  of  his 
heart:  Alas!  Gentle  God,  what  a dpng  is  this!  When  a 
jman  is  killed  by  murderers  or  strong  beasts  of  prey  it  is  soon 
over;  but  I lie  dying  here  under  the  cruel  insects,  and  yet  can- 
not die.  The  nights  in  winter  were  never  so  long,  nor  was  the 
iSummer  so  hot,  as  to  make  him  leave  off  this  exercise.  On  the 
^contrary,  he  devised  something  farther  — two  leathern  loops  into 
which  he  put  his  hands,  and  fastened  one  on  each  side  his  throat, 
and  made  the  fastenings  so  secure  that  even  if  his  cell  had  been 

* ‘Insects,’  i e.  lice,  were  an  unfailing  token  of  mediaeval  sainthood.  We 
rread  of  Francis  of  Assisi’s  sheepskin  that  “ often  a companion  of  the  saint 
would  take  it  to  the  fire  to  clean  and  dispediculate  it,  doing  so,  as  he  said, 
'■because  the  seraphic  father  himself  was  no  enemy  of  pedoccki,  but  on  the 
rcontrary  kept  them  on  him  (le  portava  adosso),  and  held  it  for  an  honor  ana 
i glory  to  wear  these  celestial  pearls  in  his  habit.”  Quoted  by  P.  Saba- 
, tier  : Speculum  Perfectionis,  etc.,  Paris,  1898,  p.  231,  note. 


308  THE  VARIETIES  OE  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


on  fire  about  him,  he  could  not  have  helped  himself.  This  he 
continued  until  his  hands  and  arms  had  become  almost  tremu- 
lous with  the  strain,  and  then  he  devised  something  else : two 
leather  gloves  ; and  he  caused  a brazier  to  fit  them  all  over  with 
sharp-pointed  brass  tacks,  and  he  used  to  put  them  on  at  night, 
in  order  that  if  he  should  try  while  asleep  to  throw  off  the  hair 
undergarment,  or  relieve  himself  from  the  gnawings  of  the  vile 
insects,  the  tacks  might  then  stick  into  his  body.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass.  If  ever  he  sought  to  help  himself  with  his  hands 
in  his  sleep,  he  drove  the  sharp  tacks  into  his  breast,  and  tore 
himself,  so  that  his  flesh  festered.  When  after  many  weeks 
the  wounds  had  healed,  he  tore  himself  again  and  made  fresh 
wounds. 

“ He  continued  this  tormenting  exercise  for  about  sixteen 
years.  At  the  end  of  this  time,  when  his  blood  was  now  chilled, 
and  the  fire  of  his  temperament  destroyed,  there  appeared  to 
him  in  a vision  on  Whitsunday,  a messenger  from  heaven,  who 
told  him  that  God  required  this  of  him  no  longer.  Whereupon 
he  discontinued  it,  and  threw  all  these  things  away  into  a run- 
ning stream.” 

Suso  then  tells  how,  to  emulate  the  sorrows  of  his  crucified 
Lord,  he  made  himself  a cross  with  thirty  protruding  iron 
needles  and  nails.  This  he  bore  on  his  bare  back  between  his 
shoulders  day  and  night.  ^ The  first  time  that  he  stretched  out 
this  cross  upon  his  back  his  tender  frame  was  struck  with  terror 
at  it,  and  blunted  the  sharp  nails  slightly  against  a stone.  But 
soon,  repenting  of  this  womanly  cowardice,  he  pointed  them  all 
again  with  a file,  and  placed  once  more  the  cross  upon  him.  It 
made  his  back,  where  the  bones  are,  bloody  and  seared.  When- 
ever he  sat  down  or  stood  up,  it  was  as  if  a hedgehog-skin  were 
on  him.  If  any  one  touched  him  unawares,  or  pushed  against  | 
his  clothes,  it  tore  him.” 

Suso  next  tells  of  his  penitences  by  means  of  striking  this 
cross  and  forcing  the  nails  deeper  into  the  flesh,  and  likewise 
of  his  self-scourgings,  — a dreadful  story,  — and  then  goes  on 
as  follows  : “ At  this  same  period  the  Servitor  procured  an 
old  castaway  door,  and  he  used  to  lie  upon  it  at  night  without 
any  bedclothes  to  make  him  comfortable,  except  that  he  took  off 


SAINTLINESS 


309 


his  shoes  and  wrapped  a thick  cloak  round  him.  He  thus  se 
cured  for  himself  a most  miserable  bed ; for  hard  pea-stalks  lay 
in  humps  under  his  head,  the  cross  with  the  sharp  nails  stuck 
into  his  back,  his  arms  were  locked  fast  in  bonds,  the  horsehair 
undergarment  was  round  his  loins,  and  the  cloak  too  was  heavy 
and  the  door  hard.  Thus  he  lay  in  wretchedness,  afraid  to  stir, 
just  like  a log,  and  he  would  send  up  many  a sigh  to  God. 

“ In  winter  he  suffered  very  much  from  the  frost.  If  he 
stretched  out  his  feet  they  lay  bare  on  the  floor  and  froze,  if  he 
gathered  them  up  the  blood  became  all  on  fire  in  his  legs,  and 
this  was  great  pain.  His  feet  were  full  of  sores,  his  legs  drop- 
sical, his  knees  bloody  and  seared,  his  loins  covered  with  scars 
from  the  horsehair,  his  body  wasted,  his  mouth  parched  with 
intense  thirst,  and  his  hands  tremulous  from  weakness.  Amid 
these  torments  he  spent  his  nights  and  days ; and  he  endured 
them  all  out  of  the  greatness  of  the  love  which  he  bore  in 
his  heart  to  the  Divine  and  Eternal  Wisdom,  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  whose  agonizing  sufferings  he  sought  to  imitate.  After 
a time  he  gave  up  this  penitential  exercise  of  the  door,  and  in- 
stead of  it  he  took  up  his  abode  in  a very  small  cell,  and  used 
the  bench,  which  was  so  narrow  and  short  that  he  could  not 
stretch  himself  upon  it,  as  his  bed.  In  this  hole,  or  upon  the 
door,  he  lay  at  night  in  his  usual  bonds,  for  about  eight  years. 

. It  was  also  his  custom,  during  the  space  of  twenty-five  years, 
provided  he  was  staying  in  the  convent,  never  to  go  after  com- 
pline in  winter  into  any  warm  room,  or  to  the  convent  stove  to 
warm  himself,  no  matter  how  cold  it  might  be,  unless  he  was 
I obliged  to  do  so  for  other  reasons.  Throughout  all  these  years 
; he  never  took  a bath,  either  a water  or  a sweating  bath ; and 
this  he  did  in  order  to  mortify  his  comfort-seeking  body.  He 
practiced  during  a long  time  such  rigid  poverty  that  he  would 
neither  receive  nor  touch  a penny,  either  with  leave  or  without 
it.  For  a considerable  time  he  strove  to  attain  such  a high 
1 degree  of  purity  that  he  would  neither  scratch  nor  touch  any 
part  of  his  body,  save  only  his  hands  and  feet.”  ^ 

‘ The  Life  of  the  Blessed  Henry  Scso,  by  Himself,  translated  by  T.  F 
Knox,  London,  1865,  pp.  56-80,  abridged. 


310  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

I spare  you  the  recital  of  poor  Suso’s  self-inflicted  tor 
tures  from  thirst.  It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  after  his 
fortieth  year,  God  showed  him  by  a series  of  visions  that 
he  had  sufficiently  broken  down  the  natural  man,  and 
that  he  might  leave  these  exercises  off.  His  case  is  dis- 
tinctly pathological,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  had 
the  alleviation,  which  some  ascetics  have  enjoyed,  of  an 
alteration  of  sensibility  capable  of  actually  turning  tor- 
ment into  a perverse  kind  of  pleasure.  Of  the  founder 
of  the  Sacred  Heart  order,  for  example,  we  read  that 

“ Her  love  of  pain  and  suffering  was  insatiable.  . . . She 
said  that  she  could  cheerfully  live  till  the  day  of  judgment,  pro- 
vided she  might  always  have  matter  for  suffering  for  God ; but 
that  to  live  a single  day  without  suffering  would  be  intolerable. 
She  said  again  that  she  was  devoured  with  two  unassuageable 
fevers,  one  for  the  holy  communion,  the  other  for  suffering, 
humiliation,  and  annihilation.  ‘ Nothing  but  pain,’  she  continu- 
ally said  in  her  letters,  ‘ makes  my  life  supportable.’  ” ^ 

So  much  for  the  phenomena  to  which  the  ascetic  im- 
pulse will  in  certain  persons  give  rise.  In  the  ecclesias- 
tically consecrated  character  three  minor  branches  of 
self-mortification  have  been  recognized  as  indispensable 
pathways  to  perfection.  I refer  to  the  chastity,  obedi- 
ence, and  poverty  which  the  monk  vows  to  observe;  and 
upon  the  heads  of  obedience  and  poverty  I will  make  a 
few  remarks. 

First,  of  Obedience.  The  secular  life  of  our  twentieth 
century  opens  with  this  virtue  held  in  no  high  esteem. 
The  duty  of  the  individual  to  determine  his  own  conduct 
and  profit  or  suffer  by  the  consequences  seems,  on  the 

1 Bougatjd  : Hist,  de  la  bienheureuse  Marguerite  Marie,  Paris,  1894) 
pp.  265,  171.  Compare,  also,  pp.  386,  387. 


SAINTLINESS 


311 


contrary,  to  be  one  of  our  best  rooted  contemporary  Pro- 
testant social  ideals.  So  much  so  that  it  is  difficult  even 
imaginatively  to  comprehend  how  men  possessed  of  an 
inner  life  of  their  own  could  ever  have  come  to  think 
the  subjection  of  its  wiU  to  that  of  other  finite  creatures 
recommendable.  I confess  that  to  myself  it  seems  some' 
thing  of  a mystery.  Yet  it  evidently  corresponds  to  a 
profound  interior  need  of  many  persons,  and  we  must  do 
our  best  to  understand  it. 

On  the  lowest  possible  plane,  one  sees  how  the  expe- 
diency of  obedience  in  a firm  ecclesiastical  organization 
must  have  led  to  its  being  viewed  as  meritorious.  Next, 
experience  shows  that  there  are  times  in  every  one’s  life 
when  one  can  be  better  counseled  by  others  than  by 
one’s  self.  Inability  to  decide  is  one  of  the  commonest 
symptoms  of  fatigued  nerves  ; friends  who  see  our 
troubles  more  broadly,  often  see  them  more  wisely  than 
we  do ; so  it  is  frequently  an  act  of  excellent  virtue  to 
consult  and  obey  a doctor,  a partner,  or  a wife.  But, 
leaving  these  lower  prudential  regions,  we  find,  in  the 
nature  of  some  of  the  spiritual  excitements  which  we 
have  been  studying,  good  reasons  for  idealizing  obedi- 
ence. Obedience  may  spring  from  the  general  religious 
phenomenon  of  inner  softening  and  self-surrender  and 
throwing  one’s  self  on  higher  powers.  So  saving  are 
these  attitudes  felt  to  be  that  in  themselves,  apart  from 
utility,  they  become  ideally  consecrated ; and  in  obeying 
a man  whose  falhbility  we  see  through  thoroughly,  we, 
nevertheless,  may  feel  much  as  we  do  when  we  resign  our 
will  to  that  of  infinite  wisdom.  Add  self-despair  and  the 
passion  of  self-crucifixion  to  this,  and  obedience  becomes 
an  ascetic  sacrifice,  agreeable  quite  irrespective  of  what- 
ever prudential  uses  it  might  have. 

It  is  as  a sacrifice,  a mode  of  ^ mortification,*  that 


312  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


obedience  is  primarily  conceived  by  Catholic  writers,  a ^ 
“ sacrifice  which  man  offers  to  God,  and  of  which  he  is 
himself  both  the  priest  and  the  victim.  By  poverty  he 
immolates  his  exterior  possessions ; by  chastity  he  immo- 
lates his  body ; by  obedience  he  completes  the  sacrifice, 
and  gives  to  God  all  that  he  yet  holds  as  his  own,  his  two 
most  precious  goods,  his  intellect  and  his  will.  The  sac- 
rifice is  then  complete  and  unreserved,  a genuine  holo- 
caust, for  the  entire  victim  is  now  consumed  for  the 
honor  of  God.”  ^ Accordingly,  in  Catholic  discipfine,  we 
obey  our  superior  not  as  mere  man,  but  as  the  represent- 
ative of  Christ.  Obeying  God  in  him  by  our  intention, 
obedience  is  easy.  But  when  the  text-book  theologians 
marshal  collectively  all  their  reasons  for  recommending 
it,  the  mixture  sounds  to  our  ears  rather  odd. 

“ One  of  the  great  consolations  of  the  monastic  life,”  says  a 
Jesuit  authority,  “ is  the  assurance  we  have  that  in  obeying  we 
can  commit  no  fault.  The  Superior  may  commit  a fault  in 
commanding  you  to  do  this  thing  or  that,  but  you  are  certain 
that  you  commit  no  fault  so  long  as  you  obey,  because  God  will 
only  ask  you  if  you  have  duly  performed  what  orders  you  re- 
ceived, and  if  you  can  furnish  a clear  account  in  that  respect, 
you  are  absolved  entirely.  Whether  the  things  you  did  were 
opi^ortune,  or  whether  there  were  not  something  better  that*^ 
might  have  been  done,  these  are  questions  not  asked  of  you,  but 
rather  of  your  Superior.  The  moment  what  you  did  was  done 
obediently,  God  wipes  it  out  of  your  account,  and  charges  it  to 
the  Superior.  So  that  Saint  Jerome  well  exclaimed,  in  cele- 
brating the  advantages  of  obedience,  ‘ Oh,  sovereign  liberty!! 
Oh,  holy  and  blessed  security  by  which  one  becomes  almost 
impeccable  I ’ 

“ Saint  John  Climachus  is  of  the  same  sentiment  when  hei 
calls  obedience  an  excuse  before  God.  In  fact,  when  God  asksj 
why  you  have  done  this  or  that,  and  you  reply,  it  is  because  1 

^ Lejeune  : Introduction  k la  Vie  Mystique,  1899,  p.  277.  The  holocaun*' 
•imile  goes  back  at  least  as  far  as  Ignatius  Loyola. 


SAINTLINESS 


313 


was  so  ordered  by  my  Superiors,  God  will  ask  for  no  other 
excuse.  As  a passenger  in  a good  vessel  with  a good  pilot 
need  give  himself  no  farther  concern,  but  may  go  to  sleep  in 
peace,  because  the  pilot  has  charge  over  all,  and  ‘ watches  for 
him  ’ ; so  a religious  person  who  lives  under  the  yoke  of  obedi- 
ence goes  to  heaven  as  if  while  sleeping,  that  is,  while  leaning 
entirely  on  the  conduct  of  his  Superiors,  who  are  the  pilots  of 
his  vessel,  and  keep  watch  for  him  continually.  It  is  no  small 
thing,  of  a truth,  to  be  able  to  cross  the  stormy  sea  of  life  on 
the  shoulders  and  in  the  arms  of  another,  yet  that  is  just  the 
grace  which  God  accords  to  those  who  live  under  the  yoke  of 
obedience.  Their  Superior  bears  all  their  burdens.  ...  A 
certain  grave  doctor  said  that  he  would  rather  spend  his  life  in 
picking  up  straws  by  obedience,  than  by  his  own  responsible 
choice  busy  himself  with  the  loftiest  works  of  charity,  because 
one  is  certain  of  following  the  will  of  God  in  whatever  one  may 
do  from  obedience,  but  never  certain  in  the  same  degree  of 
anything  which  we  may  do  of  our  own  proper  movement.”  ^ 

One  should  read  the  letters  in  which  Ignatius  Loyola 
recommends  obedience  as  the  backbone  of  his  order,  if 
one  would  gain  insight  into  the  fulf  spirit  of  its  cult.'^ 
They  are  too  long  to  quote  ; but  Ignatius’s  belief  is  so 
vividly  expressed  in  a couple  of  sayings  reported  by  com- 
panions that,  though  they  have  been  so  often  cited,  I 
will  ask  your  permission  to  copy  them  once  more  : — 

“ I ought,”  an  early  biographer  reports  him  as  saying,  “ on  en- 
rering  religion,  and  thereafter,  to  place  myself  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  God,  and  of  him  who  takes  His  place  by  His  authority. 
I ought  to  desire  that  my  Superior  should  oblige  me  to  give  up 
my  own  judgment,  and  conquer  my  own  mind.  I ought  to  set 
up  no  difference  between  one  Superior  and  another,  . . . but 
recognize  them  all  as  equal  before  God,  whose  place  they  filL 
: For  if  I distinguish  persons,  I weaken  the  spirit  of  obedience. 

^ Alfonso  Rodriguez,  S.  J.:  Pratique  de  la  Perfection  Chrdtienne,  Part 
! iii.,  Treatise  v.,  ch.  x. 

* Letters  li.  and  cxx.  of  the  collection  translated  into  French  by  Bouix, 

I Paris,  1870. 


314  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


In  the  hands  of  my  Superior,  I must  be  a soft  wax,  a thing,  from 
which  he  is  to  require  whatever  pleases  him,  be  it  to  write  or 
receive  letters,  to  speak  or  not  to  speak  to  such  a person,  or  the 
like  ; and  I must  put  all  my  fervor  in  executing  zealously  and 
exactly  what  I am  ordered.  I must  consider  myself  as  a corpse 
which  has  neither  intelligence  nor  will ; be  like  a mass  of  matter 
which  without  resistance  lets  itself  be  placed  wherever  it  may 
please  any  one  ; like  a stick  in  the  hand  of  an  old  man,  who 
uses  it  according  to  his  needs  and  places  it  where  it  suits  him. 
So  must  I be  under  the  hands  of  the  Order,  to  serve  it  in  the 
way  it  judges  most  useful. 

“ I must  never  ask  of  the  Superior  to  be  sent  to  a particular 
place,  to  be  employed  in  a particular  duty.  ...  I must  consider 
nothing  as  belonging  to  me  personally,  and  as  regards  the 
things  I use,  be  like  a statue  which  lets  itself  be  stripped  and 
never  opposes  resistance.”  ^ 

The  other  saying  is  reported  by  Rodriguez  in  the  chap- 
ter from  which  I a moment  ago  made  quotations.  When 
speaking  of  the  Pope’s  authority,  Rodriguez  writes : — 

“ Saint  Ignatius  said,  when  general  of  his  company,  that  if 
the  Holy  Father  were  to  order  him  to  set  sail  in  the  first  bark 
which  he  might  find  in  the  port  of  Ostia,  near  Rome,  and  to 
abandon  himself  to  the  sea,  without  a mast,  without  sails,  with- 
out oars  or  rudder  or  any  of  the  things  that  are  needful  for 
navigation  or  subsistence,  he  would  obey  not  only  with  alacrity, 
but  without  anxiety  or  repugnance,  and  even  with  a great  in- 
ternal satisfaction.”  2 

With  a solitary  concrete  example  of  the  extravagance 
to  which  the  virtue  we  are  considering  has  been  carried, 
I will  pass  to  the  topic  next  in  order. 

“ Sister  Marie  Claire  [of  Port  Royal]  had  been  greatly  im- 
bued with  the  holiness  and  excellence  of  M.  de  Langres.  This 
prelate,  soon  after  he  came  to  Port  Royal,  said  to  her  one  day, 
seeing  her  so  tenderly  attached  to  Mother  Angelique,  that  it 

1 Bartoli-Michel,  ii.  13. 

2 Rodriguez  : Op.  cit.,  Part  iii.,  Treatise  v.,  ch.  vi. 


SAINTLINESS 


315 


would  perhaps  be  better  not  to  speak  to  her  again.  Marie 
Claire,  greedy  of  obedience,  took  this  inconsiderate  word  for  an 
oracle  of  God,  and  from  that  day  forward  remained  for  several 
years  without  once  speaking  to  her  sister.”  ^ 

Our  next  topic  shall  be  Poverty,  felt  at  all  times  and 
under  all  creeds  as  one  adornment  of  a saintly  life.  Since 
the  instinct  of  ownership  is  fundamental  in  man’s  nature, 
this  is  one  more  example  of  the  ascetic  paradox.  Yet  it 
appears  no  paradox  at  all,  but  perfectly  reasonable,  the 
moment  one  recollects  how  easily  higher  excitements  hold 
lower  cupidities  in  check.  Having  just  quoted  the  Jesuit 
Rodriguez  on  the  subject  of  obedience,  I will,  to  give 
immediately  a concrete  turn  to  our  discussion  of  pov- 
erty, also  read  you  a page  from  his  chapter  on  this  latter 
vu'tue.  You  must  remember  that  he  is  writing  instruc- 
tions for  monks  of  his  own  order,  and  bases  them  all  on 
the  text,  “ Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit.” 

“ If  any  one  of  you,”  he  says,  “ will  know  whether  or  not  he  is 
really  poor  in  spirit,  let  him  consider  whether  he  loves  the  ordi- 
nary consequences  and  effects  of  poverty,  which  are  hunger, 
thirst,  cold,  fatigue,  and  the  denudation  of  all  conveniences. 
See  if  you  are  glad  to  wear  a worn-out  habit  full  of  patches. 
See  if  you  are  glad  when  something  is  lacking  to  your  meal, 
when  you  are  passed  by  in  serving  it,  when  what  you  receive  is 
distasteful  to  you,  when  your  cell  is  out  of  repair.  If  you  are  not 
glad  of  these  things,  if  instead  of  loving  them  you  avoid  them, 
then  there  is  proof  that  you  have  not  attained  the  perfection  of 
poverty  of  spirit.”  Rodriguez  then  goes  on  to  describe  the  prac- 
tice of  poverty  in  more  detail.  “ The  first  point  is  that  which 
Saint  Ignatius  proposes  in  his  constitutions,  when  he  says,  ‘ Let 
no  one  use  anything  as  if  it  were  his  private  possession.’  ‘A 
religious  person,’  he  says,  ‘ ought  in  respect  to  all  the  things  that 
he  uses,  to  be  like  a statue  which  one  may  drape  with  clothing, 
but  which  feels  no  grief  and  makes  no  resistance  when  one 

^ Sainte-Bettve  : Histoire  de  Port  Royal,  i.  346. 


316  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


strips  it  again.  It  is  in  this  way  that  you  should  feel  towards 
your  clothes,  your  books,  your  cell,  and  everything  else  that 
you  make  use  of  ; if  ordered  to  quit  them,  or  to  exchange  them 
for  others,  have  no  more  sorrow  than  if  you  were  a statue  being 
uncovered.  In  this  way  you  will  avoid  using  them  as  if  they 
were  your  private  possession.  But  if,  when  you  give  up  your 
cell,  or  yield  possession  of  this  or  that  object  or  exchange  it  for 
another,  you  feel  repugnance  and  are  not  like  a statue,  that 
shows  that  you  view  these  things  as  if  they  were  your  private 
property.’ 

“ And  this  is  why  our  holy  founder  wished  the  superiors  to 
test  their  monks  somewhat  as  God  tested  Abraham,  and  to  put 
their  poverty  and  their  obedience  to  trial,  that  by  this  means 
they  may  become  acquainted  with  the  degree  of  their  virtue, 
and  gain  a chance  to  make  ever  farther  progress  in  perfection, 
. . , making  the  one  move  out  of  his  room  when  he  finds  it 
comfortable  and  is  attached  to  it ; taking  away  from  another  a 
book  of  which  he  is  fond  ; or  obliging  a third  to  exchange  his 
garment  for  a worse  one.  Otherwise  we  should  end.  by  acquir- 
ing a species  of  property  in  all  these  several  objects,  and  little 
by  little  the  wall  of  poverty  that  surrounds  us  and  constitutes 
our  principal  defense  would  be  thrown  down.  The  ancient 
fathers  of  the  desert  used  often  thus  to  treat  their  companions. 
. . Saint  Dositheus,  being  sick-nurse,  desired  a certain  knife, 

and  asked  Saint  Dorotheus  for  it,  not  for  his  private  use,  but 
for  employment  in  the  infirmary  of  which  he  had  charge. 
Whereupon  Saint  Dorotheus  answered  him : ‘ Ha ! Dositheus, 
so  that  knife  pleases  you  so  much ! Will  you  be  the  slave  of  a 
knife  or  the  slave  of  Jesus  Christ?  Do  you  not  blush  with 
shame  at  wishing  that  a knife  should  be  your  master  ? I will 
not  let  you  touch  it.’  Which  reproach  and  refusal  had  such 
an  effect  upon  the  holy  disciple  that  since  that  time  he  never 
touched  the  knife  again.”  . . . 

“ Therefore,  in  our  rooms,”  Father  Rodriguez  continues, 
“ there  must  be  no  other  furniture  than  a bed,  a table,  a bench, 
and  a candlestick,  things  purely  necessary,  and  nothing  more. 
It  is  not  allowed  among  us  that  our  cells  should  be  ornamented 
with  pictures  or  aught  else,  neither  armchairs,  carpets,  curtains, 


SAINTLINESS 


317 


I nor  any  sort  o£  cabinet  or  bureau  of  any  elegance.  Neither 
is  it  allowed  us  to  keep  anything  to  eat,  either  for  ourselves  or 
[ for  those  who  may  come  to  visit  us.  We  must  ask  permission 
\ to  go  to  the  refectory  even  for  a glass  of  water ; and  finally  we 
may  not  keep  a book  in  which  we  can  write  a line,  or  which  we 
! may  take  away  with  us.  One  cannot  deny  that  thus  we  are  in 
i great  poverty.  But  this  poverty  is  at  the  same  time  a great 
I repose  and  a great . perfection.  For  it  would  be  inevitable,  in 
case  a religious  person  were  allowed  to  own  superfluous  posses- 
sions, that  these  things  would  greatly  occupy  his  mind,  be  it  to 
’ acquire  them,  to  preserve  them,  or  to  increase  them  ; so  that  in 
not  permitting  us  at  all  to  own  them,  all  these  inconveniences 
are  remedied.  Among  the  various  good  reasons  why  the  com- 
I pany  forbids  secular  persons  to  enter  our  cells,  the  principal 
I one  is  that  thus  we  may  the  easier  be  kept  in  poverty.  After 
I all,  we  are  all  men,  and  if  we  were  to  receive  people  of  the 
I world  into  our  rooms,  we  should  not  have  the  strength  to  re- 
I main  within  the  bounds  prescribed,  but  should  at  least  wish  to 
I adorn  them  with  some  books  to  give  the  visitors  a better  opin- 
I ion  of  our  scholarship.”  ^ 

1 

Since  Hindu  fakirs,  Buddhist  monks,  and  Moham- 
medan dervishes  unite  with  Jesuits  and  Franciscans  in 
I idealizing  poverty  as  the  loftiest  individual  state,  it  is 
; worth  while  to  examine  into  the  spiritual  grounds  for 
I such  a seemingly  unnatural  opinion.  And  first,  of  those 
r which  lie  closest  to  common  human  nature. 

I'  The  opposition  between  the  men  who  have  and  the 
[ men  who  are  is  immemorial.  Though  the  gentleman,  in 
j the  old-fashioned  sense  of  the  man  who  is  well  born,  has 
1 usually  in  point  of  fact  been  predaceous  and  reveled  in 
I lands  and  goods,  yet  he  has  never  identified  his  essence 
I with  these  possessions,  but  rather  with  the  personal  su- 
periorities, the  courage,  generosity,  and  pride  supposed 
to  be  his  birthright.  To  certain  huckstering  kinds  of 

I 1 Rodriguez  : Op.  cit.,  Part  iii.,  Treatise  iii.,  chaps,  vi.,  vii. 


318  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

consideration  he  thanked  God  he  was  forever  inaccessi- 
ble, and  if  in  life’s  vicissitudes  he  should  become  des- 
titute through  their  lack,  he  was  glad  to  think  that 
with  his  sheer  valor  he  was  all  the  freer  to  work  out 
his  salvation.  “Wer  nur  selbst  was  hatte,”  says  Les- 
sing’s Tempelherr,  in  Nathan  the  Wise,  mein  Gott,  mein 
Gott,  ich  babe  nichts ! ” This  ideal  of  the  well-born  man 
without  possessions  was  embodied  in  knight-errantry  and 
templardom  ; and,  hideously  corrupted  as  it  has  always 
been,  it  still  dominates  sentimentally,  if  not  practically, 
the  military  and  aristocratic  view  of  life.  We  glorify 
the  soldier  as  the  man  absolutely  unincumbered.  Own- 
ing nothing  but  his  bare  life,  and  willing  to  toss  that  up 
at  any  moment  when  the  cause  commands  him,  he  is  the 
representative  of  unhampered  freedom  in  ideal  directions. 
The  laborer  who  pays  with  his  person  day  by  day,  and 
has  no  rights  invested  in  the  future,  offers  also  much  of 
this  ideal  detachment.  Like  the  savage,  he  may  make 
his  bed  wherever  his  right  arm  can  support  him,  and 
from  his  simple  and  athletic  attitude  of  observation,  the 
property-owner  seems  buried  and  smothered  in  ignoble 
externalities  and  trammels,  “ wading  in  straw  and  rub- 
bish to  his  knees.”  The  claims  which  things  make  are 
corrupters  of  manhood,  mortgages  on  the  soul,  and  a 
drag  anchor  on  our  progress  towards  the  empyrean, 

“ Everything  I meet  with,”  writes  Whitefield,  “ seems  to 
carry  this  voice  with  it,  — ‘ Go  thou  and  preach  the  Gospel ; 
be  a pilgrim  on  earth  ; have  no  party  or  certain  dwelling  place.’ 
My  heart  echoes  back,  ‘ Lord  Jesus,  help  me  to  do  or  suffer  thy 
will.  When  thou  seest  me  in  danger  of  nestling^  — in  pity  — 
in  tender  pity,  — put  a thorn  in  my  nest  to  prevent  me  from 
it.’  ” i 

1 R.  Philip  : The  Life  and  Times  of  George  Whitefield,  London,  1842, 
p.  366. 


SAINTLINESS 


319 


The  loathing  of  ‘ capital  ’ with  which  our  laboring 
classes  to-day  are  growing  more  and  more  infected  seems 
largely  composed  of  this  sound  sentiment  of  antipathy 
for  lives  based  on  mere  having.  As  an  anarchist  poet 
writes : — 


“ Not  by  accumulating  riches,  but  by  giving  away  that  which 
you  have, 

“ Shall  you  become  beautiful ; 

“ You  must  undo  the  wrappings,  not  case  yourself  in  fresh 
ones  ; 

“ Not  by  multiplying  clothes  shall  you  make  your  body  sound 
and  healthy,  but  rather  by  discarding  them  . . . 

“For  a soldier  who  is  going  on  a campaign  does  not  seek  what 
fresh  furniture  he  can  carry  on  his  back,  but  rather  what  he 
can  leave  behind ; 

“ Knowing  well  that  every  additional  thing  which  he  cannot 
freely  use  and  handle  is  an  impediment.”  ^ 

In  short,  lives  based  on  having  are  less  free  than  lives 
based  either  on  doing  or  on  being,  and  in  the  interest  of 
action  people  subject  to  spiritual  excitement  throw  away 
possessions  as  so  many  clogs.  Only  those  who  have  no 
private  interests  can  foUow  an  ideal  straight  away.  Sloth 
and  cowardice  creep  in  with  every  dollar  or  guinea  we 
have  to  guard.  When  a brother  novice  came  to  Saint 
Francis,  saying : “ Father,  it  would  be  a great  consola- 
tion to  me  to  own  a psalter,  but  even  supposing  that  our 
general  should  concede  to  me  this  indulgence,  still  I 
should  like  also  to  have  your  consent,”  Francis  put  him 
off  with  the  examples  of  Charlemagne,  Roland,  and  Ohver, 
pursuing  the  infidels  in  sweat  and  labor,  and  finally  dying 
on  the  field  of  battle.  “ So  care  not,”  he  said,  “ for  own- 
ing books  and  knowledge,  but  care  rather  for  works  of 
goodness.”  And  when  some  weeks  later  the  novice  came 

* Edward  Carpenter  : Towards  Democracy,  p.  362,  abridged. 


320  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

again  to  talk  o£  his  craving  for  the  psalter,  Francis  said ; 
‘‘  After  you  have  got  your  psalter  you  will  crave  a brevi- 
ary ; and  after  you  have  got  your  breviary  you  will  sit 
in  your  stall  Hke  a grand  prelate,  and  will  say  to  your 
brother  : ‘ Hand  me  my  breviary.’  . , . And  thencefor- 
ward he  denied  all  such  requests,  saying:  A man  pos- 
sesses of  learning  only  so  much  as  comes  out  of  him  in 
action,  and  a monk  is  a good  preacher  only  so  far  as  his 
deeds  proclaim  him  such,  for  every  tree  is  known  by  its 
fruits.”  ^ 

But  beyond  this  more  worthily  athletic  attitude  in- 
volved in  doing  and  being,  there  is,  in  the  desire  of  not 
having,  something  profounder  still,  something  related 
to  that  fundamental  mystery  of  rehgious  experience,  the 
satisfaction  found  in  absolute  surrender  to  the  larger 
power.  So  long  as  any  secular  safeguard  is  retained,  so 
long  as  any  residual  prudential  guarantee  is  clung  to,  so 
long  the  surrender  is  incomplete,  the  vital  crisis  is  not 
passed,  fear  still  stands  sentinel,  and  mistrust  of  the 
divine  obtains : we  hold  by  two  anchors,  looking  to  God, 
it  is  true,  after  a fashion,  but  also  holding  by  our  proper 
machinations.  In  certain  medical  experiences  we  have 
the  same  critical  point  to  overcome.  A drunkard,  or  a 
morphine  or  cocaine  maniac,  offers  himself  to  be  cured. 
He  appeals  to  the  doctor  to  wean  him  from  his  enemy, 
but  he  dares  not  face  blank  abstinence.  The  tyrannical 
drug  is  stdl  an  anchor  to  windward : he  hides  supplies 
of  it  among  his  clothing;  arranges  secretly  to  have  it 
smuggled  in  in  case  of  need.  Even  so  an  incompletely 
regenerate  man  still  trusts  in  his  own  expedients.  His 
money  is  like  the  sleeping  potion  which  the  chronically 
wakeful  patient  keeps  beside  his  bed ; he  throws  himself 
on  God,  but  if  he  should  need  the  other  help,  there  it 

^ Speculum  Ferfectionis,  ed.  P.  Sabatiek,  Paris,  1898,  pp.  10, 18. 


SALNTLINESS 


321 


will  be  also.  Every  one  knows  cases  of  this  incomplete 
and  ineffective  desire  for  reform,  — drunkards  whom, 
with  all  their  self-reproaches  and  resolves,  one  perceives 
to  be  quite  unwilhng  seriously  to  contemplate  never  being 
drunk  again  ! Eeally  to  give  up  anything  on  which  we 
have  rehed,  to  give  it  up  definitively,  ‘ for  good  and  all  ’ 
and  forever,  signifies  one  of  those  radical  alterations  of 
character  which  came  under  our  notice  in  the  lectures  on 
conversion.  In  it  the  inner  man  rolls  over  into  an  entirely 
different  position  of  equihbrium,  lives  in  a new  centre 
of  energy  from  this  time  on,  and  the  turning-point  and 
hinge  of  all  such  operations  seems  usually  to  involve  the 
sincere  acceptance  of  certain  nakednesses  and  destitutions. 

Accordingly,  throughout  the  annals  of  the  saintly  hfe, 
we  find  this  ever-recurring  note : Fling  yourself  upon 
God’s  providence  without  making  any  reserve  whatever, 
— take  no  thought  for  the  morrow,  — sell  all  you  have 
and  give  it  to  the  poor,  — only  when  the  sacrifice  is 
ruthless  and  reckless  will  the  higher  safety  really  arrive. 
As  a concrete  example  let  me  read  a page  from  the 
biography  of  Antoinette  Bourignon,  a good  woman,  much 
persecuted  in  her  day  by  both  Protestants  and  Catholics, 
because  she  would  not  take  her  religion  at  second  hand. 
When  a young  girl,  in  her  father’s  house,  — 

“ She  spent  whole  nights  in  prayer,  oft  repeating : Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ? And  being  one  night  in  a most  pro- 
found penitence,  she  said  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart : ‘ O 
my  Lord  ! What  must  I do  to  please  thee  ? For  I have  no- 
body to  teach  me.  Speak  to  my  soul  and  it  will  hear  thee.’ 
At  that  instant  she  heard,  as  if  another  had  spoke  within  her  : 
Forsake  all  earthly  things.  Separate  thyself from  the  love  of  the 
creatures.  Deny  thyself.  She  was  quite  astonished,  not  under- 
standing this  language,  and  mused  long  on  these  three  points, 
thinking  how  she  could  fulfill  them.  She  thought  she  could 
not  live  without  earthly  things,  nor  without  loving  the  creatures, 


322  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


nor  without  loving  herself.  Yet  she  said,  ‘ By  thy  Grace  I will 
do  it,  Lord  ! ’ But  when  she  would  perform  her  promise,  she 
knew  not  where  to  begin.  Having  thought  on  the  religious  in 
monasteries,  that  they  forsook  all  earthly  things  by  being  shut 
up  in  a cloister,  and  the  love  of  themselves  by  subjecting  of 
their  wills,  she  asked  leave  of  her  father  to  enter  into  a cloister 
of  the  barefoot  Carmelites,  but  he  would  not  permit  it,  saying 
he  would  rather  see  her  laid  in  her  grave.  This  seemed  to  her 
a great  cruelty,  for  she  thought  to  find  in  the  cloister  the  true 
Christians  she  had  been  seeking,  but  she  found  afterwards  that 
he  knew  the  cloisters  better  than  she  ; for  after  he  had  for- 
bidden her,  and  told  her  he  would  never  permit  her  to  be  a 
religious,  nor  give  her  any  money  to  enter  there,  yet  she  went 
to  Father  Laurens,  the  Director,  and  offered  to  serve  in  the 
monastery  and  work  hard  for  her  bread,  and  be  content  with 
little,  if  he  would  receive  her.  At  which  he  smiled  and  said : 
That  cannot  he.  We  must  have  money  to  huild  ; we  take  no 
maids  without  money  ; you  must  find  the  way  to  get  it,  else 
there  is  no  entry  here. 

“ This  astonished  her  greatly,  and  she  was  thereby  undeceived 
as  to  the  cloisters,  resolving  to  forsake  all  company  and  live 
alone  till  it  should  please  God  to  show  her  what  she  ought  to 
do  and  whither  to  go.  She  asked  always  earnestly,  ‘ When 
shall  I be  perfectly  thine,  O my  God  ? ’ And  she  thought  he 
still  answered  her.  When  thou  shalt  no  longer  possess  any- 
thing, and  shalt  die  to  thyself.  ‘ And  where  shall  I do  that. 
Lord  ? ’ He  answered  her.  In  the  desert.  This  made  so  strong 
an  impression  on  her  soul  that  she  aspired  after  this  ; but  being 
a maid  of  eighteen  years  only,  she  was  afraid  of  unlucky  chances, 
and  was  never  used  to  travel,  and  knew  no  way.  She  laid  aside 
all  these  doubts  and  said,  ‘ Lord,  thou  wilt  guide  me  how  and 
where  it  shall  please  thee.  It  is  for  thee  that  I do  it.  I will 
lay  aside  my  habit  of  a maid,  and  will  take  that  of  a hermit 
that  I may  pass  unknown.’  Having  then  secretly  made  ready 
this  habit,  while  her  parents  thought  to  have  married  her,  her 
father  having  promised  her  to  a rich  French  merchant,  she  pre- 
vented the  time,  and  on  Easter  evening,  having  cut  her  hair, 
put  on  the  habit,  and  slept  a little,  she  went  out  of  her  chamber 


SAINTLINESS 


323 


about  four  in  the  morning,  taking  nothing  but  one  penny  to 
buy  bread  for  that  day.  And  it  being  said  to  her  in  the  going 
out,  Where  is  thy  faith  ? in  a penny  f she  threw  it  away, 
begging  pardon  of  God  for  her  fault,  and  saying,  ‘ No,  Lord, 
my  faith  is  not  in  a penny,  but  in  thee  alone.’  Thus  she  went 
away  wholly  delivered  from  the  heavy  burthen  of  the  cares  and 
good  things  of  this  world,  and  found  her  soul  so  satisfied  that 
she  no  longer  wished  for  anything  upon  earth,  resting  entirely 
upon  God,  with  this  only  fear  lest  she  should  be  discovered  and 
be  obliged  to  return  home ; for  she  felt  already  more  content  in 
this  poverty  than  she  had  done  for  all  her  life  in  all  the  delights 
of  the  world.”  ^ 

The  penny  was  a small  financial  safeguard,  but  an  effec- 
tive spiritual  obstacle.  Not  till  it  was  thrown  away  could 
the  character  settle  into  the  new  equilibrium  completely. 

Over  and  above  the  mystery  of  self-surrender,  there  are 
in  the  cult  of  poverty  other  religious  mysteries.  There  is 

1 An  Apology  for  M.  Antonia  Bourignon,  London,  1699,  pp.  269,  270, 
abridged. 

Another  example  from  Starbuck’s  MS.  collection  : — 

“ At  a meeting  held  at  six  the  next  morning,  I heard  a man  relate  his 
experience.  He  said  : The  Lord  asked  him  if  he  would  confess  Christ 
among  the  quarrymen  with  whom  he  worked,  and  he  said  he  would.  Then 
he  asked  him  if  he  would  give  up  to  be  used  of  the  Lord  the  four  hundred 
dollars  he  had  laid  up,  and  he  said  he  would,  and  thus  the  Lord  saved  him. 
The  thought  came  to  me  at  once  that  I had  never  made  a real  consecration 
either  of  myself  or  of  my  property  to  the  Lord,  but  had  always  tried  to 
serve  the  Lord  in  my  way.  Now  the  Lord  asked  me  if  I would  serve  him 
in  his  way,  and  go  out  alone  and  penniless  if  he  so  ordered.  The  question 
was  pressed  home,  and  I must  decide  : To  forsake  all  and  have  him,  or  have 
all  and  lose  him  ! I soon  decided  to  take  him  ; and  the  blessed  assurance 
came,  that  he  had  taken  me  for  his  own,  and  my  joy  was  full.  I returned 
home  from  the  meeting  with  feelings  as  simple  as  a child.  I thought  all 
would  he  glad  to  hear  of  the  joy  of  the  Lord  that  posse.ssed  me,  and  so  I 
began  to  tell  the  simple  story.  But  to  my  great  surprise,  the  pastors  (for 
T attended  meetings  in  three  churches)  opposed  the  experience  and  said  it 
was  fanaticism,  and  one  told  the  members  of  his  church  to  shun  those  that 
professed  it,  and  I soon  found  that  my  foes  were  those  of  my  own  house* 
bold.' 


324  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


the  mystery  of  veracity  : “ Naked  came  I into  the  world,” 
etc.,  — whoever  first  said  that,  possessed  this  mystery. 
My  own  bare  entity  must  fight  the  battle  — shams  can- 
not save  me.  There  is  also  the  mystery  of  democracy, 
or  sentiment  of  the  equality  before  God  of  all  his  crea- 
tures. This  sentiment  (which  seems  in  general  to  have 
been  more  widespread  in  Mohammedan  than  in  Christian 
lands)  tends  to  nullify  man’s  usual  acquisitiveness.  Those 
who  have  it  spurn  dignities  and  honors,  privileges  and 
advantages,  preferring,  as  I said  in  a former  lecture,  to 
grovel  on  the  common  level  before  the  face  of  God.  It 
is  not  exactly  the  sentiment  of  humility,  though  it  comes 
so  close  to  it  in  practice.  It  is  humanity,  rather,  refusing 
to  enjoy  anything  that  others  do  liot  share.  A profound 
moralist,  writing  of  Christ’s  saying,  ‘ Sell  all  thou  hast 
and  follow  me,’  proceeds  as  follows  : — 

“ Christ  may  have  meant : If  you  love  mankind  absolutely 
you  will  as  a result  not  care  for  any  possessions  whatever,  and 
this  seems  a very  likely  proposition.  But  it  is  one  thing  to 
believe  that  a proposition  is  probably  true ; it  is  another  thing 
to  see  it  as  a fact.  If  you  loved  mankind  as  Christ  loved  them, 
you  would  see  his  conclusion  as  a fact.  It  would  be  obvious. 
You  would  sell  your  goods,  and  they  would  be  no  loss  to  you. 
These  truths,  while  literal  to  Christ,  and  to  any  mind  that  has 
Christ’s  love  for  mankind,  become  parables  to  lesser  natures. 
There  are  in  every  generation  people  who,  beginning  innocently, 
with  no  predetermined  intention  of  becoming  saints,  find  them- 
selves drawn  into  the  vortex  by  their  interest  in  helping  man- 
kind, and  by  the  understanding  that  comes  from  actually  doing 
it.  The  abandonment  of  their  old  mode  of  life  is  like  dust  in 
the  balance.  It  is  done  gradually,  incidentally,  imperceptibly. 
Thus  the  whole  question  of  the  abandonment  of  luxury  is  no 
question  at  all,  but  a mere  incident  to  another  question,  namely, 
the  degree  to  which  we  abandon  ourselves  to  the  remorseless 
logic  of  our  love  for  others.”  ^ 

1 J.  J.  Chapman,  in  the  Political  Nursery,  vol.  iv.  p.  4,  April,  190Ct 
abridg-ed. 


SAINTLINESS 


325 


But  in  all  these  matters  of  sentiment  one  must  have 
I ‘been  there  ’ one’s  self  in  order  to  understand  them.  No 
American  can  ever  attain  to  understanding  the  loyalty 
’ of  a Briton  towards  his  king,  of  a German  towards  his 
emperor ; nor  can  a Briton  or  German  ever  understand 
the  peace  of  heart  of  an  American  in  having  no  king, 
no  Kaiser,  no  spurious  nonsense,  between  him  and  the 
common  God  of  all.  If  sentiments  as  simple  as  these 
are  mysteries  which  one  must  receive  as  gifts  of  birth, 
how  much  more  is  this  the  case  with  those  subtler  reh- 
gious  sentiments  which  we  have  been  considering  ! One 
can  never  fathom  an  emotion  or  divine  its  dictates  by 
standing  outside  of  it.  In  the  glowing  hour  of  excite- 
ment, however,  all  incomprehensibilities  are  solved,  and 
what  was  so  enigmatical  from  without  becomes  transpar- 
: ently  obvious.  Each  emotion  obeys  a logic  of  its  own, 
and  makes  deductions  which  no  other  logric  can  draw. 
Piety  and  charity  hve  in  a different  universe  from  worldly 
lusts  and  fears,  and  form  another  centre  of  energy  alto- 
gether. As  in  a supreme  sorrow  lesser  vexations  may 
become  a consolation  ; as  a supreme  love  may  turn  minor 
sacrifices  into  gain ; so  a supreme  trust  may  render  com- 
mon safeguards  odious,  and  in  certain  glows  of  generous 
excitement  it  may  appear  unspeakably  mean  to  retain 
one’s  hold  of  personal  possessions.  The  only  sound  plan, 
if  we  are  ourselves  outside  the  pale  of  such  emotions,  is 
to  observe  as  well  as  we  are  able  those  who  feel  them, 
and  to  record  faithfully  what  we  observe ; and  this,  I 
need  hardly  say,  is  what  I have  striven  to  do  in  these 
last  two  descriptive  lectures,  which  I now  hope  wiU  have 
covered  the  ground  sufficiently  for  our  present  needs. 


LECTURES  XIV  AND  XV 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 

WE  have  now  passed  in  review  the  more  important 
of  the  phenomena  which  are  regarded  as  fruits  of 
genuine  religion  and  characteristics  of  men  who  are  de- 
vout. To-day  we  have  to  change  our  attitude  from  that 
of  description  to  that  of  appreciation ; we  have  to  ask 
whether  the  fruits  in  question  can  help  us  to  judge  the 
absolute  value  of  what  religion  adds  to  human  life.  W ere 
I to  parody  Kant,  I should  say  that  a ^Critique  of  pure 
Saintliness  ’ must  be  our  theme. 

If,  in  turning  to  this  theme,  we  could  descend  upon 
our  subject  from  above  like  Catholic  theologians,  with 
our  fixed  definitions  of  man  and  man’s  perfection  and  our 
positive  dogmas  about  God,  we  should  have  an  easy  time 
of  it.  Man’s  perfection  would  be  the  fulfillment  of  his 
end ; and  his  end  would  be  union  with  his  Maker.  That 
union  could  be  pursued  by  him  along  three  paths,  active, 
purgative,  and  contemplative,  respectively ; and  progress 
along  either  path  would  be  a simple  matter  to  measure  by 
the  application  of  a limited  number  of  theological  and 
moral  conceptions  and  definitions.  The  absolute  signifi- 
cance and  value  of  any  bit  of  religious  experience  we 
might  hear  of  would  thus  be  given  almost  mathematically 
into  our  hands. 

If  convenience  were  everything,  we  ought  now  to  grieve 
at  finding  ourselves  cut  off  from  so  admirably  convenient 
a method  as  this.  But  we  did  cut  ourselves  off  from  it 
deliberately  in  those  remarks  which  you  remember  we 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


327 


made,  in  our  first  lecture,  about  the  empirical  method ; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  after  that  act  of  renun- 
ciation  we  can  never  hope  for  clean-cut  and  scholastic 
results.  We  cannot  divide  man  sharply  into  an  animal 
and  a rational  part.  We  cannot  distinguish  natural  from 
supernatural  effects;  nor  among  the  latter  know  which 
are  favors  of  God,  and  which  are  counterfeit  operations 
of  the  demon.  W e have  merely  to  collect  things  together 
without  any  special  a priori  theological  system,  and  out 
of  an  aggregate  of  piecemeal  judgments  as  to  the  value 
of  this  and  that  experience  — judgments  in  which  our 
general  philosophic  prejudices,  our  instincts,  and  our 
common  sense  are  our  only  guides  — decide  that  on  the 
whole  one  type  of  religion  is  approved  by  its  fruits,  and 
another  type  condemned.  ^ On  the  whole,’  — I fear  we 
shall  never  escape  complicity  with  that  qualification,  so 
dear  to  your  practical  man,  so  repugnant  to  your  system- 
atize!’ ! 

I also  fear  that  as  I make  this  frank  confession,  I may 
seem  to  some  of  you  to  throw  our  compass  overboard,  and 
to  adopt  caprice  as  our  pilot.  Skepticism  or  wayward 
choice,  you  may  think,  can  be  the  only  results  of  such 
a formless  method  as  I have  taken  up.  A few  remarks 
in  deprecation  of  such  an  opinion,  and  in  farther  expla- 
nation of  the  empiricist  principles  which  I profess,  may 
therefore  appear  at  this  point  to  be  in  place. 

Abstractly,  it  would  seem  illogical  to  try  to  measure 
the  worth  of  a religion’s  fruits  in  merely  human  terms 
of  value.  How  can  you  measure  their  worth  without 
considering  whether  the  God  really  exists  who  is  sup- 
posed to  inspire  them  ? If  he  really  exists,  then  all  the 
conduct  instituted  by  men  to  meet  his  wants  must  neces- 
sarily be  a reasonable  fruit  of  his  rehgion,  — it  would  be 


828  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


unreasonable  only  in  case  he  did  not  exist.  If,  for  in* 
stance,  you  were  to  condemn  a religion  of  human  or 
animal  sacrifices  by  vii'tue  of  your  subjective  sentiments, 
and  if  all  the  while  a deity  were  really  there  demanding 
such  sacrifices,  you  would  be  making  a theoretical  mistake 
by  tacitly  assuming  that  the  deity  must  be  non-existent ; 
you  would  be  setting  up  a theology  of  your  own  as  much 
as  if  you  were  a scholastic  philosopher. 

To  this  extent,  to  the  extent  of  disbelieving  peremp- 
torily in  certain  types  of  deity,  I frankly  confess  that 
we  must  be  theologians.  If  disbeliefs  can  be  said  to 
constitute  a theology,  then  the  prejudices,  instincts,  and 
common  sense  which  I chose  as  our  guides  make  theo- 
logical partisans  of  us  whenever  they  make  certain  beliefs 
abhorrent. 

But  such  common-sense  prejudices  and  instincts  are 
themselves  the  fruit  of  an  empirical  evolution.  Nothing 
is  more  striking  than  the  secular  alteration  that  goes  on 
in  the  moral  and  religious  tone  of  men,  as  their  insight 
into  nature  and  their  social  arrangements  progressively 
develop.  After  an  interval  of  a few  generations  the 
mental  climate  proves  unfavorable  to  notions  of  the  deity 
which  at  an  earlier  date  were  perfectly  satisfactory  : the 
older  gods  have  fallen  below  the  common  secular  level, 
and  can  no  longer  be  believed  in.  To-day  a deity  who 
should  require  bleeding  sacrifices  to  placate  him  would 
be  too  sanguinary  to  be  taken  seriously.  Even  if  power- 
ful historical  credentials  were  put  forward  in  his  favor, 
we  would  not  look  at  them.  Once,  on  the  contrary, 
his  cruel  appetites  were  of  themselves  credentials.  They 
positively  recommended  him  to  men’s  imaginations  in 
ages  when  such  coarse  signs  of  power  were  respected 
and  no  others  could  be  understood.  Such  deities  then 
were  worshiped  because  such  fruits  were  rehshed. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


329 


[ Doubtless  historic  accidents  always  played  some  later 
[ part,  but  the  original  factor  in  fixing  the  figure  of  the 
I gods  must  always  have  been  psychological.  The  deity 
to  whom  the  prophets,  seers,  and  devotees  who  founded 
the  particular  cult  bore  witness  was  worth  something  to 
I them  personally.  They  could  use  him.  He  guided  their 
imagination,  warranted  their  hopes,  and  controlled  their 
I will,  — or  else  they  required  him  as  a safeguard  against 
the  demon  and  a curber  of  other  people’s  crimes.  In 
any  case,  they  chose  him  for  the  value  of  the  fruits  he 
seemed  to  them  to  yield.  So  soon  as  the  fruits  began 
I to  seem  quite  worthless ; so  soon  as  they  conflicted  with 
i indispensable  human  ideals,  or  thwarted  too  extensively 
other  values  ; so  soon  as  they  appeared  childish,  contempt- 
> ible,  or  immoral  when  reflected  on,  the  deity  grew  dis- 
j credited,  and  was  erelong  neglected  and  forgotten.  It 
was  in  this  way  that  the  Greek  and  Roman  gods  ceased 
i to  be  believed  in  by  educated  pagans ; it  is  thus  that  we 
1 ourselves  judge  of  the  Hindu,  Buddhist,  and  Mohamme- 
! dan  theologies ; Protestants  have  so  dealt  with  the  Catho- 
I lie  notions  of  deity,  and  liberal  Protestants  with  older 
Protestant  notions ; it  is  thus  that  Chinamen  judge  of 
us,  and  that  all  of  us  now  living  will  be  judged  by  our 
descendants.  When  we  cease  to  admire  or  approve  what 
the  definition  of  a deity  implies,  we  end  by  deeming  that 
deity  incredible. 

[ Few  historic  changes  are  more  curious  than  these  mu- 
i tations  of  theological  opinion.  The  monarchical  type  of 
I sovereignty  was,  for  example,  so  ineradicably  planted  in 
the  mind  of  our  own  forefathers  that  a dose  of  cruelty  and 
i arbitrariness  in  their  deity  seems  positively  to  have  been 
I required  by  their  imagination.  They  called  the  cruelty 
' ‘retributive  justice,’  and  a God  without  it  would  cer- 
I tainly  have  struck  them  as  not  ‘ sovereign  ’ enough.  But 


330  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

to-day  we  abhor  the  very  notion  of  eternal  suffering  in= 
flicted ; and  that  arbitrary  dealing-out  of  salvation  and 
damnation  to  selected  individuals,  of  which  Jonathan 
Edwards  could  persuade  himself  that  he  had  not  only  a 
conviction,  but  a ‘ delightful  conviction,’  as  of  a doctrine 
‘ exceeding  pleasant,  bright,  and  sweet,’  appears  to  us,  if 
sovereignly  anything,  sovereignly  irrational  and  mean. 
Not  only  the  cruelty,  but  the  paltriness  of  character  of 
the  gods  believed  in  by  earlier  centuries  also  strikes  later 
centuries  with  surprise.  We  shall  see  examples  of  it  from 
the  annals  of  Catholic  saintship  which  make  us  rub  our 
Protestant  eyes.  Ritual  worship  in  general  appears  to  the 
modern  transcendentalist,  as  well  as  to  the  ultra-puritanic 
type  of  mind,  as  if  addressed  to  a deity  of  an  almost  ab- 
surdly childish  character,  taking  delight  in  toy-shop  fur- 
niture, tapers  and  tinsel,  costume  and  mumbling  and  mum- 
mery, and  finding  his  ‘ glory  ’ incomprehensibly  enhanced 
thereby;  — just  as  on  the  other  hand  the  formless  spa- 
ciousness of  pantheism  appears  quite  empty  to  ritualistic 
natures,  and  the  gaunt  theism  of  evangelical  sects  seems 
intolerably  bald  and  chalky  and  bleak.  Luther,  says 
Emerson,  would  have  cut  off  his  right  hand  rather  than 
nail  his  theses  to  the  door  at  Wittenberg,  if  he  had  sup- 
- posed  that  they  were  destined  to  lead  to  the  pale  nega- 
tions of  Boston  Unitarianism. 

So  far,  then,  although  we  are  compelled,  whatever  may 
be  our  pretensions  to  empiricism,  to  employ  some  sort  of 
a standard  of  theological  probability  of  our  own  whenever 
we  assume  to  estimate  the  fruits  of  other  men’s  religion, 
yet  this  very  standard  has  been  begotten  out  of  the  drift 
of  common  life.  It  is  the  voice  of  human  experience 
within  us,  judging  and  condemning  all  gods  that  stand 
athwart  the  pathway  along  which  it  feels  itself  to  be  ad- 
vancing. Experience,  if  we  take  it  in  the  largest  sense,  is 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


331 


thus  the  parent  of  those  disbeliefs  which,  it  was  charged, 
were  inconsistent  with  the  experiential  method.  The 
inconsistency,  you  see,  is  immaterial,  and  the  charge  may 
be  neglected. 

If  we  pass  from  disbeliefs  to  positive  beliefs,  it  seems 
to  me  that  there  is  not  even  a formal  inconsistency  to  be 
laid  against  our  method.  The  gods  we  stand  by  are  the 
gods  we  need  and  can  use,  the  gods  whose  demands  on  us 
are  reinforcements  of  our  demands  on  ourselves  and  on 
one  another.  What  I then  propose  to  do  is,  briefly 
stated,  to  test  saintliness  by  common  sense,  to  use  human 
standards  to  help  us  decide  how  far  the  religious  life 
commends  itself  as  an  ideal  kind  of  human  activity. 
If  it  commends  itself,  then  any  theological  beliefs  that 
may  inspire  it,  in  so  far  forth  will  stand  accredited.  If 
not,  then  they  will  be  discredited,  and  all  without  refer- 
ence to  anything  but  human  working  principles.  It  is 
but  the  elimination  of  the  humanly  unfit,  and  the  survival 
of  the  humanly  fittest,  applied  to  religious  beliefs;  and 
if  we  look  at  history  candidly  and  without  prejudice,  we 
have  to  admit  that  no  religion  has  ever  in  the  long  run 
established  or  proved  itself  in  any  other  way.  Religions 
have  approved  themselves  ; they  have  ministered  to  sun- 
dry vital  needs  which  they  found  reigning.  When  they 
violated  other  needs  too  strongly,  or  when  other  faiths 
came  which  served  the  same  needs  better,  the  first  reli- 
gions were  supplanted. 

The  needs  were  always  many,  and  the  tests  were  never 
sharp.  So  the  reproach  of  vagueness  and  subjectivity 
and  ‘ on  the  whole  ’-ness,  which  can  with  perfect  legiti- 
macy be  addressed  to  the  empirical  method  as  we  are 
forced  to  use  it,  is  after  all  a reproach  to  which  the  entire 
life  of  man  in  dealing  with  these  matters  is  obnoxious. 
No  religion  has  ever  yet  owed  its  prevalence  to  ‘ apodictio 


332  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

certainty.’  In  a later  lecture  I will  ask  whether  ohjeo 
tive  certainty  can  ever  he  added  by  theological  reasoning 
to  a rehgion  that  already  empirically  prevails. 

One  word,  also,  about  the  reproach  that  in  following 
this  sort  of  an  empirical  method  we  are  handing  ourselves 
over  to  systematic  skepticism. 

Since  it  is  impossible  to  deny  secular  alterations  in  our 
sentiments  and  needs,  it  would  be  absurd  to  afi&rm  that 
one’s  own  age  of  the  world  can  be  beyond  correction  by 
the  next  age.  Skepticism  cannot,  therefore,  be  ruled  out 
by  any  set  of  thinkers  as  a possibility  against  which  their 
conclusions  are  secure ; and  no  empiricist  ought  to  claim 
exemption  from  this  universal  liability.  But  to  admit 
one’s  liability  to  correction  is  one  thing,  and  to  embark 
upon  a sea  of  wanton  doubt  is  another.  Of  willfully 
playing  into  the  hands  of  skepticism  we  cannot  be  ac- 
cused. He  who  acknowledges  the  imperfectness  of  his 
instrument,  and  makes  allowance  for  it  in  discussing  his 
observations,  is  in  a much  better  position  for  gaining 
truth  than  if  he  claimed  his  instrument  to  be  infalhble. 
Or  is  dogmatic  or  scholastic  theology  less  doubted  in 
point  of  fact  for  claiming,  as  it  does,  to  be  in  point  of 
right  undoubtable?  And  if  not,  what  command  over 
truth  would  this  kind  of  theology  really  lose  if,  instead 
of  absolute  certainty,  she  only  claimed  reasonable  proba- 
bility for  her  conclusions  ? If  we  claim  only  reasona- 
ble probability,  it  will  be  as  much  as  men  who  love 
the  truth  can  ever  at  any  given  moment  hope  to  have 
■within  their  grasp.  Pretty  surely  it  will  be  more  than  we 
could  have  had,  if  we  were  unconscious  of  our  hability 
to  err. 

Nevertheless,  dogmatism  will  doubtless  continue  to  con- 
demn us  for  this  confession.  The  mere  outward  form  of 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


333 


inalterable  certainty  is  so  precious  to  some  minds  that  to 
I renounce  it  explicitly  is  for  them  out  of  the  question. 
They  will  claim  it  even  where  the  facts  most  patently 
pronounce  its  folly.  But  the  safe  thing  is  surely  to  recog- 
nize that  all  the  insights  of  creatures  of  a day  like  our- 
selves must  be  provisional.  The  wisest  of  critics  is  an 
altering  being,  subject  to  the  better  insight  of  the  mor- 
row, and  right  at  any  moment,  only  ‘ up  to  date  ’ and 
‘ on  the  whole.’  When  larger  ranges  of  truth  open,  it 
is  surely  best  to  be  able  to  open  ourselves  to  their  recep- 
tion, unfettered  by  our  previous  pretensions.  “ Heartily^ 
know,  when  half-gods  go,  the  gods  arrive.” 

The  fact  of  diverse  judgments  about  religious  phenom- 
ena is  therefore  entirely  unescapable,  whatever  may  be 
one’s  own  desire  to  attain  the  irreversible.  But  apart 
from  that  fact,  a more  fundamental  question  awaits  us, 
the  question  whether  men’s  opinions  ought  to  be  ex- 
pected to  be  absolutely  uniform  in  this  field.  Ought  all 
men  to  have  the  same  religion  ? Ought  they  to  approve 
the  same  fruits  and  follow  the  same  leadings?  Are  they 
so  like  in  their  inner  needs  that,  for  hard  and  soft,  for 
proud  and  humble,  for  strenuous  and  lazy,  for  healthy- 
minded  and  despairing,  exactly  the  same  religious  incen- 
tives are  required  ? Or  are  different  functions  in  the 
organism  of  humanity  allotted  to  different  types  of  man, 
so  that  some  may  really  be  the  better  for  a religion  of 
consolation  and  reassurance,  whilst  others  are  better  for 
one  of  terror  and  reproof  ? It  might  conceivably  be  so  ; 
and  we  shall,  I think,  more  and  more  suspect  it  to  be  so 
as  we  go  on.  And  if  it  be  so,  how  can  any  possible 
judge  or  critic  help  being  biased  in  favor  of  the  religion 
by  which  his  own  needs  are  best  met  ? He  aspires  to  im- 
partiality ; but  he  is  too  close  to  the  struggle  not  to  be 
to  some  degree  a participant,  and  he  is  sure  to  approve 


334  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

most  warmly  those  fruits  of  piety  in  others  which  taste 
most  good  and  prove  most  nourishing  to  him. 

I am  well  aware  of  how  anarchic  much  of  what  I 
say  may  sound.  Expressing  myself  thus  abstractly  and 
briefly,  I may  seem  to  despair  of  the  very  notion  of 
truth.  But  I beseech  you  to  reserve  your  judgment  until 
we  see  it  applied  to  the  details  which  lie  before  us.  I do 
indeed  disbelieve  that  we  or  any  other  mortal  men  can 
attain  on  a given  day  to  absolutely  incorrigible  and  unim- 
provable truth  about  such  matters  of  fact  as  those  with 
which  religions  deal.  But  I reject  this  dogmatic  ideal 
not  out  of  a perverse  delight  in  intellectual  instabihty.  I 
am  no  lover  of  disorder  and  doubt  as  such.  Rather  do 
I fear  to  lose  truth  by  this  pretension  to  possess  it  already 
wholly.  That  we  can  gain  more  and  more  of  it  by  mov- 
ing always  in  the  right  direction,  I believe  as  much  as 
any  one,  and  I hope  to  bring  you  all  to  my  way  of  think- 
ing before  the  termination  of  these  lectures.  Till  then, 
do  not,  I pray  you,  harden  your  minds  irrevocably  against 
the  empiricism  which  I profess. 

I will  waste  no  more  words,  then,  in  abstract  justifica- 
tion of  my  method,  but  seek  immediately  to  use  it  upon 
the  facts. 

In  critically  judging  of  the  value  of  religious  phe- 
nomena, it  is  very  important  to  insist  on  the  distinction 
between  religion  as  an  individual  personal  function,  and 
religion  as  an  institutional,  corporate,  or  tribal  product. 
I drew  this  distinction,  you  may  remember,  in  my  second 
lecture.  The  word  ‘ religion,’  as  ordinarily  used,  is  equivo- 
cal. A survey  of  history  shows  us  that,  as  a rule,  reli- 
gious geniuses  attract  disciples,  and  produce  groups  of 
sympathizers.  When  these  groups  get  strong  enough  to 
‘ organize  ’ themselves,  they  become  ecclesiastical  institu* 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


335 


tions  with  corporate  ambitions  of  their  own.  The  spirit 
of  politics  and  the  lust  of  dogmatic  rule  are  then  apt  to 
enter  and  to  contaminate  the  originally  innocent  thing ; 
so  that  when  we  hear  the  word  ‘ religion  ’ nowadays,  we 
think  inevitably  of  some  ‘ church  ’ or  other ; and  to  some 
persons  the  word  ‘ church  ’ suggests  so  much  hypocrisy 
and  tyranny  and  meanness  and  tenacity  of  superstition 
that  in  a wholesale  undiscerning  way  they  glory  in  say- 
ing that  they  are  ‘ down  ’ on  religion  altogether.  Even 
we  who  belong  to  churches  do  not  exempt  other  churches 
than  our  own  from  the  general  condemnation. 

But  in  this  course  of  lectures  ecclesiastical  institutions 
hardly  concern  us  at  all.  The  religious  experience  which 
we  are  studying  is  that  which  lives  itself  out  within  the 
private  breast.  First-hand  individual  experience  of  this 
kind  has  always  appeared  as  a heretical  sort  of  innova- 
tion to  those  who  witnessed  its  birth.  Naked  comes  it 
into  the  world  and  lonely ; and  it  has  always,  for  a time 
at  least,  driven  him  who  had  it  into  the  wilderness,  often 
into  the  literal  wilderness  out  of  doors,  where  the  Bud- 
dha, Jesus,  Mohammed,  St.  Francis,  George  Fox,  and  so 
many  others  had  to  go.  George  Fox  expresses  well  this 
isolation  ; and  I can  do  no  better  at  this  point  than  read 
to  you  a page  from  his  Journal,  referring  to  the  period 
of  his  youth  when  religion  began  to  ferment  within  him 
seriously. 

“I  fasted  much,”  Fox  says,  “ walked  abroad  in  solitary  places 
many  days,  and  often  took  my  Bible,  and  sat  in  hollow  trees 
and  lonesome  places  until  night  came  on  ; and  frequently  in 
the  night  walked  mournfully  about  by  myself ; for  I was  a 
man  of  sorrows  in  the  time  of  the  first  workings  of  the  Lord 
in  me. 

“ During  all  this  time  I was  never  joined  in  profession  of 
religion  with  any,  but  gave  up  myself  to  the  Lord,  having  for* 


336  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


saken  all  evil  company,  taking  leave  of  father  and  mother,  and 
all  other  relations,  and  traveled  up  and  down  as  a stranger  on 
the  earth,  which  way  the  Lord  inclined  my  heart ; taking  a 
chamber  to  myself  in  the  town  where  I came,  and  tarrying 
sometimes  more,  sometimes  less  in  a place : for  I durst  not  stay 
long  in  a place,  being  afraid  both  of  professor  and  profane,  lest, 
being  a tender  young  man,  I should  be  hurt  by  conversing  much 
with  either.  For  which  reason  I kept  much  as  a stranger,  seek- 
ing heavenly  wisdom  and  getting  knowledge  from  the  Lord ; 
and  was  brought  off  from  outward  things,  to  rely  on  the  Lord 
alone.  As  I had  forsaken  the  priests,  so  I left  the  separate 
preachers  also,  and  those  called  the  most  experienced  people ; 
for  I saw  there  was  none  among  them  all  that  could  speak  to  my 
condition.  And  when  all  my  hopes  in  them  and  in  all  men  were 
gone  so  that  I had  nothing  outwardly  to  help  me,  nor  could  tell 
what  to  do ; then,  oh  then,  I heard  a voice  which  said,  ‘ There 
is  one,  even  Jesus  Christ,  that  can  speak  to  thy  condition.’ 
When  I heard  it,  my  heart  did  leap  for  joy.  Then  the  Lord 
let  me  see  why  there  was  none  upon  the  earth  that  could  speak 
to  my  condition.  I had  not  fellowship  with  any  people,  priests, 
nor  professors,  nor  any  sort  of  separated  people.  I was  afraid 
of  all  carnal  talk  and  talkers,  for  I could  see  nothing  but  cor- 
ruptions. When  I was  in  the  deep,  under  all  shut  up,  I could 
not  believe  that  I should  ever  overcome ; my  troubles,  my  sor- 
rows, and  my  temptations  were  so  great  that  I often  thought  I 
should  have  despaired,  I was  so  tempted.  But  when  Christ 
opened  to  me  how  he  was  tempted  by  the  same  devil,  and  had 
overcome  him,  and  had  bruised  his  head ; and  that  through  him 
and  his  power,  life,  grace,  and  spirit,  I should  overcome  also,  I 
had  confidence  in  him.  If  I had  had  a king’s  diet,  palace,  and 
attendance,  all  would  have  been  as  nothing;  for  nothing  gave 
me  comfort  but  the  Lord  by  his  power.  I saw  professors, 
priests,  and  people  were  whole  and  at  ease  in  that  condition 
which  was  my  misery,  and  they  loved  that  which  I would  have 
been  rid  of.  But  the  Lord  did  stay  my  desires  upon  himself, 
and  my  care  was  cast  upon  him  alone.”  ^ 

' Geokge  Fox  : Journal,  Philadelphia,  1800,  pp.  69-61,  abridged. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


337 


' A genuine  first-hand  religious  experience  like  this  is 
I bound  to  be  a heterodoxy  to  its  witnesses,  the  prophet 
I appearing  as  a mere  lonely  madman.  If  his  doctrine 
prove  contagious  enough  to  spread  to  any  others,  it  be- 
comes a definite  and  labeled  heresy.  But  if  it  then  still 
; prove  contagious  enough  to  triumph  over  persecution,  it 
becomes  itself  an  orthodoxy ; and  when  a religion  has 
become  an  orthodoxy,  its  day  of  inwardness  is  over : the 
j spring  is  dry ; the  faithful  live  at  second  hand  exclusively 
and  stone  the  prophets  in  their  turn.  The  new  church, 
in  spite  of  whatever  human  goodness  it  may  foster,  can 
be  henceforth  counted  on  as  a staunch  ally  in  every  at- 
tempt to  stifle  the  spontaneous  religious  spirit,  and  to  stop 
all  later  bubblings  of  the  fountain  from  which  in  purer 
days  it  drew  its  own  supply  of  inspiration.  Unless,  in- 
i deed,  by  adopting  new  movements  of  the  spirit  it  can 
make  capital  out  of  them  and  use  them  for  its  selfish 
corporate  designs ! Of  protective  action  of  this  politic 
sort,  promptly  or  tardily  decided  on,  the  dealings  of  the 
Roman  ecclesiasticism  with  many  individual  saints  and 
prophets  yield  examples  enough  for  our  instruction. 

The  plain  fact  is  that  men’s  minds  are  built,  as  has  been 
often  said,  in  water-tight  compartments.  Religious  after  a 
fashion,  they  yet  have  many  other  things  in  them  beside 
their  religion,  and  unholy  entanglements  and  associations 
inevitably  obtain.  The  basenesses  so  commonly  charged 
to  religion’s  account  are  thus,  almost  all  of  them,  not 
chargeable  at  all  to  religion  proper,  but  rather  to  reli- 
gion’s wicked  practical  partner,  the  spirit  of  corporate 
dominion.  And  the  bigotries  are  most  of  them  in  their 
turn  chargeable  to  religion’s  wicked  intellectual  partner, 
the  spirit  of  dogmatic  dominion,  the  passion  for  laying 
down  the  law  in  the  form  of  an  absolutely  closed-in  theo- 
retic system.  The  ecclesiastical  spirit  in  general  is  the 


338  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


sum  of  these  two  spirits  of  dominion ; and  I beseech 
you  never  to  confound  the  phenomena  of  mere  tribal 
or  corporate  psychology  which  it  presents  with  those 
manifestations  of  the  purely  interior  life  which  are  the 
exclusive  object  of  our  study.  The  baiting  of  Jews, 
the  hunting  of  Albigenses  and  Waldenses,  the  stoning 
of  Quakers  and  ducking  of  Methodists,  the  murdering 
of  Mormons  and  the  massacring  of  Armenians,  express 
much  rather  that  aboriginal  human  neophobia,  that  pug- 
nacity of  which  we  all  share  the  vestiges,  and  that  inborn 
hatred  of  the  ahen  and  of  eccentric  and  non-conforming 
men  as  aliens,  than  they  express  the  positive  piety  of  the 
various  perpetrators.  Piety  is  the  mask,  the  inner  force 
is  tribal  instinct.  You  believe  as  little  as  I do,  in  spite 
of  the  Christian  unction  with  which  the  German  emperor 
addressed  his  troops  upon  their  way  to  China,  that  the 
conduct  which  he  suggested,  and  in  which  other  Christian 
armies  went  beyond  them,  had  anything  whatever  to  do 
with  the  interior  religious  life  of  those  concerned  in  the 
performance. 

Well,  no  more  for  past  atrocities  than  for  this  atrocity 
should  we  make  piety  responsible.  At  most  we  may 
blame  piety  for  not  availing  to  check  our  natural  passions, 
and  sometimes  for  supplying  them  with  hypocritical  pre- 
texts. But  hypocrisy  also  imposes  obligations,  and  with 
the  pretext  usually  couples  some  restriction ; and  when 
the  passion  gust  is  over,  the  piety  may  bring  a reaction 
of  repentance  which  the  irreligious  natural  man  would 
not  have  shown. 

For  many  of  the  historic  aberrations  which  have  been 
laid  to  her  charge,  religion  as  such,  then,  is  not  to  blame. 
Yet  of  the  charge  that  over-zealousness  or  fanaticism  is 
one  of  her  liabilities  we  cannot  whoUy  acquit  her,  so  I 
will  next  make  a remark  upon  that  point.  But  I will 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


339 


preface  it  by  a preliminary  remark  which  connects  itself 
with  much  that  follows. 

Our  survey  of  the  phenomena  of  saintliness  has  un- 
questionably produced  in  your  minds  an  impression  of 
extravagance.  Is  it  necessary,  some  of  you  have  asked, 
as  one  example  after  another  came  before  us,  to  be  quite 
so  fantastically  good  as  that?  We  who  have  no  vocation 
for  the  extremer  ranges  of  sanctity  will  surely  be  let  off 
at  the  last  day  if  our  humility,  asceticism,  and  devout- 
ness prove  of  a less  convulsive  sort.  This  practically 
amounts  to  saying  that  much  that  it  is  legitimate  to  ad- 
mire in  this  field  need  nevertheless  not  be  imitated,  and 
that  religious  phenomena,  like  all  other  human  phenom- 
ena, are  subject  to  the  law  of  the  golden  mean.  Political 
reformers  accomplish  their  successive  tasks  in  the  his- 
tory of  nations  by  being  blind  for  the  time  to  other 
causes.  Great  schools  of  art  work  out  the  effects  which 
it  is  their  mission  to  reveal,  at  the  cost  of  a one-sidedness 
for  which  other  schools  must  make  amends.  W e accept  a 
John  Howard,  a Mazzini,  a Botticelli,  a Michael  Angelo, 

1 with  a kind  of  indulgence.  We  are  glad  they  existed  to 
! show  us  that  way,  but  we  are  glad  there  are  also  other 
j ways  of  seeing  and  taking  life.  So  of  many  of  the 
saints  whom  we  have  looked  at.  We  are  proud  of  a 
human  nature  that  could  be  so  passionately  extreme,  but 
we  shrink  from  advising  others  to  follow  the  example. 
The  conduct  we  blame  ourselves  for  not  follovping  lies 
nearer  to  the  middle  line  of  human  effort.  It  is  less 
dependent  on  particular  beliefs  and  doctrines.  It  is 
such  as  wears  well  in  different  ages,  such  as  under  differ- 
ent skies  all  judges  are  able  to  commend. 

The  fruits  of  religion,  in  other  words,  are,  like  all 
human  products,  hable  to  corruption  by  excess.  Common 


340  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

sense  must  judge  them.  It  need  not  blame  the  votary  j 
but  it  may  be  able  to  praise  him  only  conditionally,  as 
one  who  acts  faithfully  according  to  his  lights.  He 
shows  us  heroism  in  one  way,  but  the  unconditionally 
good  way  is  that  for  which  no  indulgence  need  be  asked. 

W e find  that  error  by  excess  is  exemplified  by  every 
saintly  virtue.  Excess,  in  human  faculties,  means  usually 
one-sidedness  or  want  of  balance  ; for  it  is  hard  to  im- 
agine an  essential  faculty  too  strong,  if  only  other  facul- 
ties equally  strong  be  there  to  cooperate  with  it  in  action. 
Strong  affections  need  a strong  will ; strong  active  pow- 
ers need  a strong  intellect ; strong  intellect  needs  strong 
sympathies,  to  keep  life  steady.  If  the  balance  exist,  no 
one  faculty  Ciin  possibly  be  too  strong  — we  only  get  the 
stronger  all-round  character.  In  the  life  of  saints,  tech 
nically  so  called,  the  spiritual  faculties  are  strong,  but 
what  gives  the  impression  of  extravagance  proves  usually 
on  examination  to  be  a relative  deficiency  of  intellect. 
Spiritual  excitement  takes  pathological  forms  whenever 
other  interests  are  too  few  and  the  intellect  too  narrow. 
We  find  this  exemplified  by  all  the  saintly  attributes  in 
turn  — devout  love  of  God,  purity,  charity,  asceticism,  all 
may  lead  astray.  I will  run  over  these  virtues  in  succes- 
sion. 

First  of  aU  let  us  take  Devoutness.  When  unbalanced, 
one  of  its  vices  is  called  Fanaticism.  Fanaticism  (when 
not  a mere  expression  of  ecclesiastical  ambition)  is  only 
loyalty  carried  to  a convulsive  extreme.  When  an  in- 
tensely loyal  and  narrow  mind  is  once  grasped  by  the 
feeling  that  a certain  superhuman  person  is  worthy  of  its 
exclusive  devotion,  one  of  the  first  things  that  happens 
is  that  it  idealizes  the  devotion  itself.  To  adequately 
realize  the  merits  of  the  idol  gets  to  be  considered  the 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


341 


one  great  merit  of  the  worshiper ; and  the  sacrifices  and 
servihties  by  which  savage  tribesmen  have  from  time 
unmemorial  exhibited  their  faithfulness  to  chieftains  are 
now  outbid  in  favor  of  the  deity.  Vocabularies  are  ex- 
hausted and  languages  altered  in  the  attempt  to  praise 
him  enough  ; death  is  looked  on  as  gain  if  it  attract  his 
grateful  notice ; and  the  personal  attitude  of  being  his 
devotee  becomes  what  one  might  almost  call  a new  and 
exalted  kind  of  professional  specialty  within  the  tribe.^ 
The  legends  that  gather  round  the  lives  of  holy  persons 
are  fruits  of  this  impulse  to  celebrate  and  glorify.  The 
Buddha  ^ and  Mohammed  ^ and  their  companions  and 
many  Christian  saints  are  incrusted  with  a heavy  jewelry 


^ Christian  saints  have  had  their  specialties  of  devotion,  Saint  Francis  to 
Christ’s  wounds  ; Saint  Anthony  of  Padua  to  Christ’s  childhood  ; Saint 
Bernard  to  his  humanity  ; Saint  Teresa  to  Saint  Joseph,  etc.  The  Shi-ite 
Mohammedans  venerate  Ali,  the  Prophet’s  son-in-law,  instead  of  Abu-bekr, 
his  brother-in-law.  Vambdry  describes  a dervish  whom  he  met  in  Persia, 
“who  had  solemnly  vowed,  thirty  years  before,  that  he  would  never  em- 
ploy his  organs  of  speech  otherwise  but  iii  uttering,  everlastingly,  the  name 
of  his  favorite,  Ali,  Ali.  He  thus  wished  to  signify  to  the  world  that  he 
was  the  most  devoted  partisan  of  that  Ali  who  had  been  dead  a thousand 
years.  In  his  own  home,  speaking  with  his  wife,  children,  and  friends,  no 
other  word  but  ‘ Ali ! ’ ever  passed  his  lips.  If  he  wanted  food  or  drink  or 
anything  else,  he  expressed  his  wants  still  by  repeating  ‘ Ali ! ’ Begging  or 
buying  at  the  bazaar,  it  was  always  ‘ Ali  ! ’ Treated  ill  or  generously,  he 
would  still  harp  on  his  monotonous  ‘ Ali  ! ’ Latterly  his  zeal  assumed  such 
tremendous  proportions  that,  like  a madman,  he  would  race,  the  whole  day, 
up  and  down  the  streets  of  the  town,  throwing  his  stick  high  up  into  the 
air,  and  shriek  out,  all  the  while,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  ‘ Ali  ! ’ This  der- 
vish was  venerated  by  everybody  as  a saint,  and  received  everywhere  with 
the  greatest  distinction.”  Arminius  Vamb^ry,  his  Life  and  Adventures, 
written  by  Himself,  London,  1889,  p.  69.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  death 
of  Hussein,  Ali’s  son,  the  Shi-ite  Moslems  still  make  the  air  resound  with 
cries  of  his  name  and  Ali’s. 

* Compare  H.  C.  Warren  : Buddhism  in  Translation,  Cambridge,  U.  S., 
1898,  passim. 

® Compare  J.  L.  Merrick  : The  Life  and  Religion  of  Mohammed,  as 
contained  in  the  Sheeah  traditions  of  the  Hyat-ul-Kuloob,  Boston,  1850, 
passim. 


342  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  anecdotes  which  are  meant  to  he  honorific,  hut  are 
simply  ahgeschmackt  and  silly,  and  form  a touching 
expression  of  man’s  misguided  propensity  to  praise. 

An  immediate  consequence  of  this  condition  of  mind 
is  jealousy  for  the  deity’s  honor.  How  can  the  devotee 
show  his  loyalty  better  than  by  sensitiveness  in  this  re- 
gard ? The  slightest  affront  or  neglect  must  be  resented, 
the  deity’s  enemies  must  be  put  to  shame.  In  exceed- 
ingly narrow  minds  and  active  wills,  such  a care  may 
become  an  engrossing  preoccupation  ; and  crusades  have 
been  preached  and  massacres  instigated  for  no  other  rea- 
son than  to  remove  a fancied  slight  upon  the  God. 
Theologies  representing  the  gods  as  mindful  of  their 
glory,  and  chui’ches  with  imperialistic  policies,  have  con- 
spired to  fan  this  temper  to  a glow,  so  that  intoler- 
ance and  persecution  have  come  to  be  vices  associated 
by  some  of  us  inseparably  with  the  saintly  mind.  They 
are  unquestionably  its  besetting  sins.  The  saintly  tem- 
per is  a moral  temper,  and  a moral  temper  has  often 
to  be  cruel.  It  is  a partisan  temper,  and  that  is  cruel. 
Between  his  own  and  Jehovah’s  enemies  a David  knows 
no  difference  ; a Catherine  of  Siena,  panting  to  sto}>  the 
warfare  among  Christians  which  was  the  scandal  of  her 
epoch,  can  think  of  no  better  method  of  union  among 
them  than  a crusade  to  massacre  the  Turks ; Luther 
finds  no  word  of  protest  or  regret  over  the  atrocious  tor- 
tures with  which  the  Anabaptist  leaders  were  put  to 
death ; and  a Cromwell  praises  the  Lord  for  delivering 
his  enemies  into  his  hands  for  ‘ execution.’  Politics 
come  in  in  aU  such  cases ; but  piety  finds  the  partnership 
not  quite  unnatural.  So,  when  ‘ freethinkers  ’ tell  us  that 
religion  and  fanaticism  are  twins,  we  cannot  make  an 
unqualified  denial  of  the  charge. 

Fanaticism  must  then  be  inscribed  on  the  wrong  side 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


343 


of  religion’s  account,  so  long  as  the  religious  person’s 
intellect  is  on  the  stage  which  the  despotic  kind  of  God 
satisfies.  But  as  soon  as  the  God  is  represented  as  less 
intent  on  his  own  honor  and  glory,  it  ceases  to  be  a 
danger. 

Fanaticism  is  found  only  where  the  character  is  mas- 
terful and  aggressive.  In  gentle  characters,  where  de- 
voutness is  intense  and  the  intellect  feeble,  we  have 
an  imaginative  absorption  in  the  love  of  God  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  practical  human  interests,  which,  though 
innocent  enough,  is  too  one-sided  to  be  admirable.  A 
mind  too  narrow  has  room  but  for  one  kind  of  affection. 
When  the  love  of  God  takes  possession  of  such  a mind, 
it  expels  all  human  loves  and  human  uses.  There  is  no 
Enghsh  name  for  such  a sweet  excess  of  devotion,  so  I 
will  refer  to  it  as  a theopathic  condition. 

The  blessed  Margaret  Mary  Alacoque  may  serve  as  an 
example. 

“To  be  loved  here  upon  the  earth,”  her  recent  biographer 
exclaims : “ to  be  loved  by  a noble,  elevated,  distinguished 
being ; to  be  loved  with  fidelity,  with  devotion,  — w’hat  en- 
chantment ! But  to  be  loved  by  God  ! and  loved  by  him  to 
distraction  [aime  jusqu’a  la  folie]  ! — Margaret  melted  away 
with  love  at  the  thought  of  such  a thing.  Like  Saint  Philip 
of  Neri  in  former  times,  or  like  Saint  Francis  Xavier,  she  said 
to  God  : ‘ Hold  back,  O my  God,  these  torrents  which  over- 
whelm me,  or  else  enlarge  my  capacity  for  their  reception.’  ” ^ 

The  most  signal  proofs  of  God’s  love  which  Margaret  Mary 
received  were  her  hallucinations  of  sight,  touch,  and  hearing, 
and  the  most  signal  in  turn  of  these  were  the  revelations  of 
Christ’s  sacred  heart,  “ surrounded  with  rays  more  brilliant 
than  the  Sun,  and  transparent  like  a crystal.  The  wound 
which  he  received  on  the  cross  visibly  appeared  upon  it.  There 

* Bougaud  : Hist,  de  la  bienheureuse  Marguerite  Marie,  Pans,  1894, 
p.  145. 


344  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


was  a crown  of  thorns  round  about  this  divine  Heart,  and  a 
cross  above  it.”  At  the  same  time  Christ’s  voice  told  her  that, 
unable  longer  to  contain  the  flames  of  his  love  for  mankind,  he 
had  chosen  her  by  a miracle  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  them. 
He  thereupon  took  out  her  mortal  heart,  placed  it  inside  of  his 
own  and  inflamed  it,  and  then  replaced  it  in  her  breast,  adding: 
“ Hitherto  thou  hast  taken  the  name  of  my  slave,  hereafter 
thou  shalt  be  called  the  well-beloved  disciple  of  my  Sacred 
Heart.” 

In  a later  vision  the  Saviour  revealed  to  her  in  detail  the 
‘ great  design  ’ which  he  wished  to  establish  through  her  instru- 
mentality. “ I ask  of  thee  to  bring  it  about  that  every  fii'st 
Friday  after  the  week  of  holy  Sacrament  shall  be  made  into 
a special  holy  day  for  honoring  my  Heart  by  a general  com- 
munion and  by  services  intended  to  make  honorable  amends  for 
the  indignities  which  it  has  received.  And  I promise  thee  that 
my  Heart  will  dilate  to  shed  with  abundance  the  influences  of 
its  love  upon  all  those  who  pay  to  it  these  honors,  or  who 
bring  it  about  that  others  do  the  same.” 

“ This  revelation,”  says  Mgr.  Bougaud,  “ is  unques- 
tionably the  most  important  of  all  the  revelations  which 
have  illumined  the  Church  since  that  of  the  Incarnation 
and  of  the  Lord’s  Supper.  . . . After  the  Eucharist,  the 
supreme  effort  of  the  Sacred  Heart.”  ^ Well,  what  were 
its  good  fruits  for  Margaret  Mary’s  life?  Apparently 
little  else  but  sufferings  and  prayers  and  absences  of 
mind  and  swoons  and  ecstasies.  She  became  increas- 
ingly useless  about  the  convent,  her  absorption  in  Christ’s 
love,  — 

“ which  grew  upon  her  daily,  rendering  her  more  and  more  in- 
capable of  attending  to  external  duties.  They  tried  her  in  the 
infirmary,  but  without  much  success,  although  her  kindness,  zeal, 
and  devotion  were  without  bounds,  and  her  charity  rose  to  acts 
of  such  a heroism  that  our  readers  would  not  bear  the  recital 

^ Bougaud  : Hist,  de  la  bienheoreuse  Marguerite  Marie,  Paris,  1894, 
f>p.  365,  241. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


345 


of  them.  They  tried  her  in  the  kitchen,  but  were  forced  to  give 
it  up  as  hopeless  — everything  dropped  out  of  her  hands.  The 
admirable  humility  with  which  she  made  amends  for  her  clum- 
siness could  not  prevent  this  from  being  prejudicial  to  the 
order  and  regularity  which  must  always  reign  in  a community. 
They  put  her  in  the  school,  where  the  little  girls  cherished  her, 
and  cut  pieces  out  of  her  clothes  [for  relics]  as  if  she  were 
already  a saint,  but  where  she  was  too  absorbed  inwardly  to 
pay  the  necessary  attention.  Poor  dear  sister,  even  less  after 
her  visions  than  before  them  was  she  a denizen  of  earth,  and 
they  had  to  leave  her  in  her  heaven.”  ^ 

Poor  dear  sister,  indeed ! Amiable  and  good,  but  so 
feeble  of  intellectual  outlook  that  it  would  be  too  much 
to  ask  of  us,  with  our  Protestant  and  modern  education, 
to  feel  anything  but  indulgent  pity  for  the  kind  of  saint- 
ship  which  she  embodies.  A lower  example  still  of  theo- 
pathic  saintliness  is  that  of  Saint  Gertrude,  a Benedic- 
tine nun  of  the  thirteenth  century,  whose  ‘ Revelations,’ 
a well-known  mystical  authority,  consist  mainly  of  proofs 
of  Christ’s  partiality  for  her  undeserving  person.  Assur- 
ances of  his  love,  intimacies  and  caresses  and  compli- 
ments of  the  most  absurd  and  puerile  sort,  addi’essed  by 
Christ  to  Gertrude  as  an  individual,  form  the  tissue  of 
this  paltry-minded  recital.^  In  reading  such  a narrative, 

1 Bougaud  : Op.  cit.,  p.  267. 

* Examples  : “ Suffering  from  a headache,  she  sought,  for  the  glory  of 
God,  to  relieve  herself  hy  holding  certain  odoriferous  substances  in  her 
mouth,  when  the  Lord  appeared  to  her  to  lean  over  towards  her  lovingly, 
and  to  find  comfort  Himself  in  these  odors.  After  having  gently  breathed 
them  in.  He  arose,  and  said  with  a gratified  air  to  the  Saints,  as  if  contented 
with  what  He  had  done : ‘ See  the  new  present  which  my  betrothed  has 
gfiven  Me  ! ’ 

“ One  day,  at  chapel,  she  heard  supematurally  sung  the  words,  ‘ Sanctus, 
Sanctus,  Sanctus.'  The  Son  of  God  leaning  towards  her  like  a sweet  lover, 
and  giving  to  her  soul  the  softest  kiss,  said  to  her  at  the  second  Sanctus  : 
‘ In  this  Sanctus  addressed  to  my  person,  receive  with  this  kiss  all  the  sanc- 
tity of  my  divinity  and  of  my  humanity,  and  let  it  be  to  thee  a sufficient 
preparation  for  approaching  the  communion  table.’  And  the  next  follow- 


346  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


we  realize  the  gap  between  the  thirteenth  and  the  twen« 
tieth  century,  and  we  feel  that  saintliness  of  character 
may  yield  almost  absolutely  worthless  fruits  if  it  be  as- 
sociated with  such  inferior  intellectual  sympathies.  What 
with  science,  idealism,  and  democracy,  our  own  imagi- 
nation has  grown  to  need  a God  of  an  entirely  different 
temperament  from  that  Being  interested  exclusively  in 
dealing  out  personal  favors,  with  whom  our  ancestors 
were  so  contented.  Smitten  as  we  are  with  the  vision 
of  social  righteousness,  a God  indifferent  to  everything 
but  adulation,  and  full  of  partiality  for  his  individual 
favorites,  lacks  an  essential  element  of  largeness ; and 
even  the  best  professional  sainthood  of  former  centuries, 
pent  in  as  it  is  to  such  a conception,  seems  to  us  curiously 
shallow  and  unedifying. 

Take  Saint  Teresa,  for  example,  one  of  the  ablest 
women,  in  many  respects,  of  whose  Hfe  we  have  the 
record.  She  had  a powerful  intellect  of  the  practical 
order.  She  wrote  admirable  descriptive  psychology,  pos- 
sessed a will  equal  to  any  emergency,  great  talent  for 
politics  and  business,  a buoyant  disposition,  and  a first- 
rate  literary  style.  She  was  tenaciously  aspiring,  and 
put  her  whole  life  at  the  service  of  her  religious  ideals. 
Yet  so  paltry  were  these,  according  to  our  present  way 
of  thinking,  that  (although  I know  that  others  have  been 
moved  differently)  I confess  that  my  only  feeling  in 

ing  Sunday,  while  she  was  thanking  God  for  this  favor,  behold  the  Son  of 
God,  more  beauteous  than  thousands  of  angels,  takes  her  in  His  arms  as  if 
He  were  proud  of  her,  and  presents  her  to  God  the  Father,  in  that  perfection 
of  sanctity  with  which  He  had  dowered  her.  And  the  Father  took  such 
delight  in  this  soul  thus  presented  by  His  only  Son,  that,  as  if  unable  longer 
to  restrain  Himself,  He  gave  her,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  gave  her  also,  the 
Sanctity  attributed  to  each  by  His  own  Sanctus  — and  thus  she  remained 
endowed  with  the  plenary  fullness  of  the  blessing  of  Sanctity,  bestowed  on 
her  by  Omnipotence,  by  Wisdom,  and  by  Love.”  Rdvdlations  de  Sainte 
Gertrude,  Paris,  1898,  i.  44,  186. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


347 


reading  her  has  been  pity  that  so  much  vitahty  of  soul 
should  have  found  such  poor  employment. 

In  spite  of  the  sufferings  which  she  endured,  there  is 
a curious  flavor  of  superficiahty  about  her  genius.  A 
Birmingham  anthropologist,  Dr.  Jordan,  has  divided  the 
human  race  into  two  types,  whom  he  calls  ‘ shrews  ’ and 
‘ non-shrews  ’ respectively.^  The  shrew-type  is  defined  as 
possessing  an  ‘ active  unimpassioned  temperament,’  In 
other  words,  shrews  are  the  ‘ motors,’  rather  than  the 
‘ sensories,’  ^ and  their  expressions  are  as  a rule  more 
energetic  than  the  feelings  which  appear  to  prompt  them. 
Saint  Teresa,  paradoxical  as  such  a judgment  may  sound, 
was  a typical  shrew,  in  this  sense  of  the  term.  The 
bustle  of  her  style,  as  well  as  of  her  hfe,  proves  it.  Not 
only  must  she  receive  unheard-of  personal  favors  and 
spiritual  graces  from  her  Saviour,  but  she  must  immedi- 
ately write  about  them  and  exploiter  them  professionally, 
and  use  her  expertness  to  give  instruction  to  those  less 
privileged.  Her  voluble  egotism  ; her  sense,  not  of  radh 
cal  bad  being,  as  the  really  contrite  have  it,  but  of  her 
‘ faults  ’ and  ‘ imperfections  ’ in  the  plural ; her  stereo* 
typed  humility  and  return  upon  herself,  as  covered  with 
‘ confusion  ’ at  each  new  manifestation  of  God’s  sina-ular 
partiality  for  a person  so  unworthy,  are  typical  of  shrew- 
dom : a paramoimtly  feeling  nature  would  be  objec- 
tively  lost  in  gratitude,  and  silent.  She  had  some  public 
instincts,  it  is  true ; she  hated  the  Lutherans,  and  longed 
for  the  church’s  triumph  over  them ; but  in  the  main  her 
idea  of  religion  seems  to  have  been  that  of  an  endless 
amatory  flirtation  — if  one  may  say  so  without  irrever- 

* Fukneatjx  Jordan  : Character  in  Birth  and  Parentage,  first  edition. 
Later  editions  change  the  nomenclature. 

* As  to  thk  distinction,  see  the  admirably  practical  account  in  J.  M. 
Baldwin’s  little  book.  The  Story  of  the  Mind,  1898. 


348  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ence  — between  the  devotee  and  the  deity ; and  apart 
from  helping  younger  nuns  to  go  in  this  direction  by  the 
inspiration  of  her  example  and  instruction,  there  is  abso' 
lutely  no  human  use  in  her,  or  sign  of  any  general  human 
interest.  Yet  the  spirit  of  her  age^  far  from  rebuking 
her,  exalted  her  as  superhuman. 

We  have  to  pass  a similar  judgment  on  the  whole 
notion  of  saintship  based  on  merits.  Any  God  who,  on 
the  one  hand,  can  care  to  keep  a pedantically  minute 
account  of  individual  shortcomings,  and  on  the  other  can 
feel  such  partialities,  and  load  particular  creatures  with 
such  insipid  marks  of  favor,  is  too  small-minded  a God 
for  our  credence.  When  Luther,  in  his  immense  manly 
way,  swept  off  by  a stroke  of  his  hand  the  very  notion  of 
a debit  and  credit  account  kept  with  individuals  by  the 
Almighty,  he  stretched  the  soul’s  imagination  and  saved 
theology  from  puerility. 

So  much  for  mere  devotion,  divorced  from  the  intel- 
lectual conceptions  which  might  guide  it  towards  bearing 
useful  human  fruit. 

The  next  saintly  virtue  in  which  we  find  excess  is 
Purity.  In  theopathic  characters,  like  those  whom  we 
have  just  considered,  the  love  of  God  must  not  be  mixed 
with  any  other  love.  Father  and  mother,  sisters,  brothers, 
and  friends  are  felt  as  interfering  distractions ; for  sen- 
sitiveness and  narrowness,  when  they  occur  together,  as 
they  often  do,  require  above  all  things  a simpHfied  world 
to  dwell  in.  Variety  and  confusion  are  too  much  for  their 
powers  of  comfortable  adaptation.  But  whereas  your  ag- 
gressive pietist  reaches  his  unity  objectively,  by  forcibly 
stamping  disorder  and  divergence  out,  your  retiring  pie- 
tist reaches  his  subjectively,  leaving  disorder  in  the  world 
at  large,  but  making  a smaller  world  in  which  he  dwells 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


349 


, himself  and  from  which  he  eliminates  it  altogether.  Thus, 
alongside  of  the  church  militant  with  its  prisons,  dragon- 
! nades,  and  inquisition  methods,  we  have  the  church 
fugient,  as  one  might  call  it,  with  its  hermitages,  monas- 
teries, and  sectarian  organizations,  both  churches  pursu- 
ing the  same  object  — to  unify  the  life,^  and  simphfy  the 
; spectacle  presented  to  the  soul.  A mind  extremely  sensi- 
tive to  inner  discords  will  drop  one  external  relation  after 
f another,  as  interfering  with  the  absorption  of  conscious- 
f ness  in  spiritual  things.  Amusements  must  go  first,  then 
conventional  ‘ society,’  then  business,  then  family  duties, 
until  at  last  seclusion,  with  a subdivision  of  the  day  into 
hours  for  stated  religious  acts,  is  the  only  thing  that  can 
be  borne.  The  lives  of  saints  are  a history  of  successive 
renunciations  of  complication,  one  form  of  contact  with 
; the  outer  life  being  dropped  after  another,  to  save  the 
purity  of  inner  tone.^  “ Is  it  not  better,”  a young  sister 

^ On  thia  subject  I refer  to  the  work  of  M.  Murisier  (Les  Maladies  du 
Sentiment  Religieux,  Paris,  1901),  who  makes  inner  unification  the  main- 
spring of  the  whole  religious  life.  But  all  strongly  ideal  interests,  religious 
or  irreligious,  unify  the  mind  and  tend  to  subordinate  everything  to  them- 
selves. One  would  infer  from  M.  Murisier’s  pages  that  this  formal  condition 
was  peculiarly  characteristic  of  religion,  and  that  one  might  in  comparison 
almost  neglect  material  content,  in  studying  the  latter.  I trust  that  the  pre- 
sent work  will  convince  the  reader  that  religion  has  plenty  of  material 
content  which  is  characteristic,  and  which  is  more  important  by  far  than 
any  general  psychological  form.  In  spite  of  this  criticism,  I find  M.  Muri- 
sier’s book  highly  instructive. 

* Example  : “At  the  first  beginning  of  the  Servitor’s  [Suso’s]  interior 
life,  after  he  had  purified  his  soul  properly  by  confession,  he  marked  out 
for  himself,  in  thought,  three  circles,  within  which  he  shut  himself  up,  as  in 
a spiritual  intrenchment.  The  first  circle  was  his  cell,  his  chapel,  and  the 
choir.  When  he  was  within  this  circle,  he  seemed  to  himself  in  complete 
security.  The  second  circle  was  the  whole  monastery  as  far  as  the  outer  gate. 
The  third  and  outermost  circle  was  the  gate  itself,  and  here  it  was  necessary 
for  him  to  stand  well  upon  his  guard.  When  he  went  outside  these  circles, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  in  the  plight  of  some  wild  animal  which  is 
outside  its  hole,  and  surrounded  by  the  hunt,  and  therefore  in  need  of  all 
its  cunning  and  watchfulness.”  The  Life  of  the  Blessed  Henry  Suso,  by 
Himself,  translated  by  ELnox,  London,  1865,  p.  168. 


360  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


asks  her  Superior,  “ that  I should  not  speak  at  all  during 
the  hour  of  recreation,  so  as  not  to  run  the  risk,  by 
speaking,  of  falHng  into  some  sin  of  which  I might  not 
be  conscious  ? ” ^ If  the  life  remains  a social  one  at  all, 
those  who  take  part  in  it  must  follow  one  identical  rule. 
Embosomed  in  this  monotony,  the  zealot  for  purity  feels 
clean  and  free  once  more.  The  minuteness  of  uniformity 
maintained  in  certain  sectarian  communities,  whether 
monastic  or  not,  is  something  almost  inconceivable  to  a 
man  of  the  world.  Costume,  phraseology,  hours,  and 
habits  are  absolutely  stereotyped,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  some  persons  are  so  made  as  to  find  in  this  stability 
an  incomparable  kind  of  mental  rest. 

We  have  no  time  to  multiply  examples,  so  I will  let 
the  case  of  Saint  Louis  of  Gonzaga  serve  as  a type  of 
excess  in  purification.  I think  you  will  agree  that  this 
youth  carried  the  elimination  of  the  external  and  dis- 
cordant to  a point  which  we  cannot  unreservedly  admire. 
At  the  age  of  ten,  his  biographer  says : — 

“ The  inspiration  came  to  him  to  consecrate  to  the  Mother  of 
God  his  own  virginity  — that  being  to  her  the  most  agreeable 
of  possible  presents.  Without  delay,  then,  and  with  all  the 
fervor  there  was  in  him,  joyous  of  heart,  and  burning  with  love, 
he  made  his  vow  of  perpetual  chastity.  Mary  accepted  the 
offering  of  his  innocent  heart,  and  obtained  for  him  from  God. 
as  a recompense,  the  extraordinary  grace  of  never  feeling  dui 
ing  his  entire  life  the  slightest  touch  of  temptation  against  the 
virtue  of  purity.  This  was  an  altogether  exceptional  favor, 
rarely  accorded  even  to  Saints  themselves,  and  all  the  more 
marvelous  in  that  Louis  dwelt  always  in  courts  and  among 
great  folks,  where  danger  and  opportunity  are  so  unusually 
frequent.  It  is  true  that  Louis  from  his  earliest  childhood  had 
shown  a natural  repugnance  for  whatever  might  be  impure  oi 

* Vie  des  premieres  Religieuses  Dominicaines  de  la  Congregation  de  Sfc 
Dominique,  k Nancy  ; Nancy,  1896,  p.  129. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


351 


anvirginal,  and  even  for  relations  of  any  sort  whatever  between 
persons  of  opposite  sex.  But  this  made  it  all  the  more  surpris- 
ing that  he  should,  especially  since  this  vow,  feel  it  necessary 
to  have  recourse  to  such  a number  of  expedients  for  protect- 
ing against  even  the  shadow  of  danger  the  virginity  which  he 
had  thus  consecrated.  One  might  suppose  that . if  any  one 
could  have  contented  himself  with  the  ordinary  precautions, 
prescribed  for  all  Christians,  it  would  assuredly  have  been  he. 
But  no  ! In  the  use  of  preservatives  and  means  of  defense,  in 
flight  from  the  most  insignificant  occasions,  from  every  possi- 
bility of  peril,  just  as  in  the  mortification  of  his  flesh,  he  went 
farther  than  the  majority  of  saints.  He,  who  by  an  extraordi- 
nary protection  of  God’s  grace  was  never  tempted,  measured 
all  his  steps  as  if  he  were  threatened  on  every  side  by  particu- 
lar dangers.  Thenceforward  he  never  raised  his  eyes,  either 
when  walking  in  the  streets,  or  when  in  society.  Not  only  did 
he  avoid  all  business  with  females  even  more  scrupulously  than 
before,  but  he  renounced  all  conversation  and  every  kind  of 
social  recreation  with  them,  although  his  father  tried  to  make 
him  take  part ; and  he  commenced  only  too  early  to  deliver  his 
innocent  body  to  austerities  of  every  kind.”  ^ 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  we  read  of  this  young-  man  that 
“ if  by  chance  his  mother  sent  one  of  her  maids  of  honor 
to  him  with  a message,  he  never  allowed  her  to  come  in, 
but  listened  to  her  through  the  barely  opened  door,  and 
dismissed  her  immediately.  He  did  not  like  to  he  alone 
with  his  own  mother,  whether  at  table  or  in  conversation  ; 
and  when  the  rest  of  the  company  withdrew,  he  sought 
also  a pretext  for  retiring.  . . . Several  great  ladies,  rela- 
tives of  his,  he  avoided  learning  to  know  even  by  sight ; 
and  he  made  a sort  of  treaty  with  his  father,  engaging 
promptly  and  readily  to  accede  to  all  his  wishes,  if  he 
might  only  be  excused  from  all  visits  to  ladies,”  (Ibid., 

p.  71.) 

^ Meschler’s  Life  of  Saint  Louis  of  Gonzaga,  French  translation  hy 
IfiBREQUIER,  1891,  p.  40. 


362  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


When  he  was  seventeen  years  old  Louis  joined  the 
Jesuit  order/  against  his  father’s  passionate  entreaties,  for 
he  was  heir  of  a princely  house ; and  when  a year  later  the 
father  died,  he  took  the  loss  as  a ‘ particular  attention  ’ 
to  himself  on  God’s  part,  and  wrote  letters  of  stilted 
good  advice,  as  from  a spiritual  superior,  to  his  grieving 
mother.  He  soon  became  so  good  a monk  that  if  any 
one  asked  him  the  number  of  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
he  had  to  reflect  and  count  them  over  before  replying. 
A Father  asked  him  one  day  if  he  were  never  troubled 
by  the  thought  of  his  family,  to  which,  “ I never  think 
of  them  except  when  praying  for  them,”  was  his  only 
answer.  Never  was  he  seen  to  hold  in  his  hand  a flower 
or  anything  perfumed,  that  he  might  take  pleasure  in 
it.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  hospital,  he  used  to  seek 
for  whatever  was  most  disgusting,  and  eagerly  snatch  the 
bandages  of  ulcers,  etc.,  from  the  hands  of  his  com- 
panions. He  avoided  worldly  talk,  and  immediately  tried 
to  turn  every  conversation  on  to  pious  subjects,  or  else  he 
remained  silent.  He  systematically  refused  to  notice  his 
surroundings.  Being  ordered  one  day  to  bring  a book 
from  the  rector’s  seat  in  the  refectory,  he  had  to  ask 
where  the  rector  sat,  for  in  the  three  months  he  had 
eaten  bread  there,  so  carefully  did  he  guard  his  eyes  that 
he  had  not  noticed  the  place.  One  day,  during  recess, 
having  looked  by  chance  on  one  of  his  companions,  he 
reproached  himself  as  for  a grave  sin  against  modesty. 
He  cultivated  silence,  as  preserving  from  sins  of  the 
tongue ; and  his  greatest  penance  was  the  hmit  which  his 
superiors  set  to  his  bodily  penances.  He  sought  after 

1 In  his  boyish  note-book  he  praises  the  monastic  life  for  its  freedom 
from  sin,  and  for  the  imperishable  treasures,  which  it  enables  us  to  store  up, 
“ of  merit  in  God’s  eyes  which  makes  of  Him  our  debtor  for  aU  Eternity.” 
Loc.  cit.,  p.  62. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


353 


false  accusations  and  unjust  reprimands  as  opportunities 
of  humility ; and  such  was  his  obedience  that,  when  a 
room-mate,  having  no  more  paper,  asked  him  for  a sheet, 
he  did  not  feel  free  to  give  it  to  him  without  first  obtain- 
ing the  permission  of  the  superior,  who,  as  such,  stood  in 
the  place  of  God,  and  transmitted  his  orders. 

I can  find  no  other  sorts  of  fruit  than  these  of  Louis’s 
saintship.  He  died  in  1591,  in  his  twenty-ninth  year, 
and  is  known  in  the  Church  as  the  patron  of  all  young 
people.  On  his  festival,  the  altar  in  the  chapel  devoted 
to  him  in  a certain  church  in  Rome  “ is  embosomed  in 
flowers,  arranged  with  exquisite  taste ; and  a pile  of 
letters  may  be  seen  at  its  foot,  written  to  the  Saint 
by  young  men  and  women,  and  directed  to  ‘ Paradiso.’ 
They  are  supposed  to  be  burnt  unread  except  by  San 
Luigi,  who  must  find  singular  petitions  in  these  pretty 
little  missives,  tied  up  now  with  a green  ribbon,  expres- 
sive of  hope,  now  with  a red  one,  emblematic  of  love,” 
etc.^ 

1 Mademoiselle  Mori,  a novel  quoted  in  Hare’s  Walks  in  Rome,  1900, 
i.  55. 

I cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  quote  from  Starbuck’s  book,  p.  388, 
another  case  of  purification  by  elimination.  It  runs  as  follows  : — 

“ The  signs  of  abnormality  which  sanctified  persons  show  are  of  frequent 
occurrence.  They  get  out  of  tune  with  other  people  ; often  they  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  churches,  which  they  regard  as  worldly  ; they  become 
hypercritical  towards  others  ; they  grow  careless  of  their  social,  political, 
and  financial  obligations.  As  an  instance  of  this  type  may  be  mentioned  a 
woman  of  sixty-eight  of  whom  the  writer  made  a special  study.  She  had 
been  a member  of  one  of  the  most  active  and  progressive  churches  in  a 
busy  part  of  a large  city  Her  pastor  described  her  as  having  reached  the 
censorious  stage.  She  had  grown  more  and  more  out  of  sympathy  with  the 
church  ; her  connection  with  it  finally  consisted  simply  in  attendance  at 
prayer-meeting,  at  which  her  only  message  was  that  of  reproof  and  con- 
demnation of  the  others  for  living  on  a low  plane.  At  last  she  withdrew 
from  fellowship  with  any  church.  The  writer  found  her  living  alone  in  a 
little  room  on  the  top  story  of  a cheap  boarding-house,  quite  out  of  touch 
with  all  human  relations,  but  apparently  happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  her 


364  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Our  final  judgment  of  the  worth  of  such  a life  as  this 
will  depend  largely  on  our  conception  of  God,  and  of  the 
sort  of  conduct  he  is  best  pleased  with  in  his  creatures. 
The  Catholicism  of  the  sixteenth  century  paid  little  heed 
to  social  righteousness ; and  to  leave  the  woi-ld  to  the 
devil  whilst  saving  one’s  own  soul  was  then  accounted  no 
discreditable  scheme.  To-day,  rightly  or  wrongly,  help- 
fulness in  general  human  affairs  is,  in  consequence  of 
one  of  those  secular  mutations  in  moral  sentiment  of 
which  I spoke,  deemed  an  essential  element  of  worth  in 
character ; and  to  be  of  some  public  or  private  use  is 
also  reckoned  as  a species  of  divine  service.  Other  early 
Jesuits,  especially  the  missionaries  among  them,  the 
Xaviers,  Brebeufs,  Jogues,  were  objective  minds,  and 
fought  in  their  way  for  the  world’s  welfare;  so  their 
lives  to-day  inspire  us.  But  when  the  intellect,  as  in  this 
Louis,  is  originally  no  larger  than  a pin’s  head,  and 
cherishes  ideas  of  God  of  corresponding  smallness,  the 
result,  notwithstanding  the  heroism  put  forth,  is  on  the 
whole  repulsive.  Purity,  we  see  in  the  object-lesson,  is 
not  the  one  thing  needful ; and  it  is  better  that  a life 
should  contract  many  a dirt-mark,  than  forfeit  useful- 
ness in  its  efforts  to  remain  unspotted. 

own  spiritual  blessings.  Her  time  was  occupied  in  writing  booklets  on 
sanctification  — page  after  page  of  dreamy  rhapsody.  She  proved  to  be  one 
of  a small  group  of  persons  who  claim  that  entire  salvation  involves  three 
steps  instead  of  two  ; not  only  must  there  be  conversion  and  sanctification, 
but  a third,  which  they  call  ‘ crucifixion  ’ or  ‘ perfect  redemption,’  and 
which  seems  to  bear  the  same  relation  to  sanctification  that  this  bears  to 
conversion.  She  related  how  the  Spirit  had  said  to  her,  ‘ Stop  going  to 
church.  Stop  going  to  holiness  meetings.  Go  to  your  own  room  and  I 
will  teach  you.’  She  professes  to  care  nothing  for  colleges,  or  preachers, 
or  churches,  but  only  cares  to  listen  to  what  God  says  to  her.  Her  descrip- 
tion of  her  experience  seemed  entirely  consistent  ; she  is  happy  and  con- 
tented, and  her  life  is  entirely  satisfactory  to  herself.  While  listening  to 
her  own  story,  one  was  tempted  to  forget  that  it  was  from  the  life  of  a 
person  who  could  not  live  by  it  in  conjunction  with  her  fellows.” 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


355 


^ Proceeding  onwards  in  our  search  of  religious  extrava* 
gance,  we  next  come  upon  excesses  of  Tenderness  and 
Charity.  Here  saintliness  has  to  face  the  charge  of  pre- 
serving the  unfit,  and  breeding  parasites  and  beggars. 
‘ Resist  not  evil,’  ‘ Love  your  enemies,’  these  are  saintly 
I maxims  of  which  men  of  this  world  find  it  hard  to  speak 
I without  impatience.  Are  the  men  of  this  world  right, 
or  are  the  saints  in  possession  of  the  deeper  range  of 
i truth? 

No  simple  answer  is  possible.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
one  feels  the  complexity  of  the  moral  life,  and  the 
mysteriousness  of  the  way  in  which  facts  and  ideals  are 
interwoven. 

Perfect  conduct  is  a relation  between  three  terms : 
the  actor,  the  objects  for  which  he  acts,  and  the  recip- 
I ients  of  the  action.  In  order  that  conduct  should  be 
abstractly  perfect,  all  three  terms,  intention,  execution, 
and  reception,  should  be  suited  to  one  another.  The  best 
intention  will  fail  if  it  either  work  by  false  means  or 
address  itself  to  the  wrong  recipient.  Thus  no  critic  or 
estimator  of  the  value  of  conduct  can  confine  himself 
to  the  actor’s  animus  alone,  apart  from  the  other  ele- 
ments of  the  performance.  As  there  is  no  worse  lie  than 
a truth  misunderstood  by  those  who  hear  it,  so  reason- 
able arguments,  challenges  to  magnanimity,  and  appeals  to 
sympathy  or  justice,  are  folly  when  we  are  deahng  with 
human  crocodiles  and  boa-constrictors.  The  saint  may 
simply  give  the  universe  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  by 
his  trustfulness.  He  may  by  non-resistance  cut  off  his 
own  survival. 

Herbert  Spencer  tells  us  that  the  perfect  man’s  con- 
duct wiU  appear  perfect  only  when  the  environment  is 
perfect : to  no  inferior  environment  is  it  suitably  adapted. 
We  may  paraphrase  this  by  cordially  admitting  that 


356  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


saintly  conduct  would  be  the  most  perfect  conduct  con- 
ceivable in  an  environment  where  all  were  saints  already ; 
but  by  adding  that  in  an  environment  where  few  are 
saints,  and  many  the  exact  reverse  of  saints,  it  must  be 
ill  adapted.  We  must  frankly  confess,  then,  using  our 
empirical  common  sense  and  ordinary  practical  prejm 
dices,  that  in  the  world  that  actually  is,  the  virtues  of 
sympathy,  charity,  and  non-resistance  may  be,  and  often 
have  been,  manifested  in  excess.  The  powers  of  darkness 
have  systematically  taken  advantage  of  them.  The  whole 
modern  scientific  organization  of  charity  is  a consequence 
of  the  failure  of  simply  giving  alms.  The  whole  history 
of  constitutional  government  is  a commentary  on  the  ex- 
cellence of  resisting  evil,  and  when  one  cheek  is  smitten, 
of  smiting  back  and  not  turning  the  other  cheek  also. 

You  will  agree  to  this  in  general,  for  in  spite  of  the 
Gospel,  in  spite  of  Quakerism,  in  spite  of  Tolstoi,  you 
believe  in  fighting  fire  with  fire,  in  shooting  down  usurp- 
ers, locking  up  thieves,  and  freezing  out  vagabonds  and 
swindlers. 

And  yet  you  are  sure,  as  I am  sure,  that  were  the 
world  confined  to  these  hard-headed,  hard-hearted,  and 
hard-fisted  methods  exclusively,  were  there  no  one  prompt 
to  help  a brother  first,  and  find  out  afterwards  whether 
he  were  worthy ; no  one  willing  to  drown  his  private 
wrongs  in  pity  for  the  wronger’s  person  ; no  one  ready  to 
be  duped  many  a time  rather  than  live  always  on  suspi- 
cion ; no  one  glad  to  treat  individuals  passionately  and 
impulsively  rather  than  by  general  rules  of  prudence ; the 
world  would  be  an  infinitely  worse  place  than  it  is  now  to 
live  in.  The  tender  grace,  not  of  a day  that  is  dead,  but 
of  a day  yet  to  be  born  somehow,  with  the  golden  rule 
grown  natural,  would  be  cut  out  from  the  perspective  of 
our  imaginations. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


357 


The  saints,  existing  in  this  way,  may,  with  their  ex- 
travagances of  human  tenderness,  be  prophetic.  Nay, 
innumerable  times  they  have  proved  themselves  pro- 
phetic. Treating  those  whom  they  met,  in  spite  of  the  \ 
past,  in  spite  of  aU  appearances,  as  worthy,  they  have  \ 
stimulated  them  to  he  worthy,  miraculously  transformed 
them  by  their  radiant  example  and  by  the  challenge  of 
their  expectation. 

From  this  point  of  view  we  may  admit  the  human 
charity  which  we  find  in  all  saints,  and  the  great  excess 
of  it  which  we  find  in  some  saints,  to  be  a genuinely 
creative  social  force,  tending  to  make  real  a degree  of 
virtue  which  it  alone  is  ready  to  assume  as  possible. 
The  saints  are  authors,  auctores,  increasers,  of  good- 
ness. The  potentialities  of  development  in  human  souls 
are  unfathomable.  So  many  who  seemed  irretrievably 
hardened  have  in  point  of  fact  been  softened,  converted, 
regenerated,  in  ways  that  amazed  the  subjects  even  more 
than  they  surprised  the  spectators,  that  we  never  can  be 
sure  in  advance  of  any  man  that  his  salvation  by  the 
way  of  love  is  hopeless.  / We  have  no  right  to  speak  of 
human  crocodiles  and  boa-constrictors  as  of  fixedly  incur- 
able beings.  We  know  not  the  complexities  of  person- 
ahty,  the  smouldering  emotional  fires,  the  other  facets  of 
the  character-polyhedron,  the  resources  of  the  subliminal 
region.  St.  Paul  long  ago  made  our  ancestors  familiar 
with  the  idea  that  every  soul  is  virtually  sacred.  Since 
Christ  died  for  us  all  without  exception,  St.  Paul  said,  we 
must  despair  of  no  one.  This  behef  in  the  essential 
sacredness  of  every  one  expresses  itself  to-day  in  all  sorts 
of  humane  customs  and  reformatory  institutions,  and  in 
a growing  aversion  to  the  death  penalty  and  to  brutality 
in  punishment.  The  saints,  with  their  extravagance  of 
human  tenderness,  are  the  great  torch-bearers  of  this 


358  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


belief,  the  tip  of  the  wedge,  the  clearers  of  the  darkness. 
Like  the  single  drops  which  sparkle  in  the  sun  as  they 
are  flung  far  ahead  of  the  advancing  edge  of  a wave- 
crest  or  of  a flood,  they  show  the  way  and  are  forerun- 
ners. The  world  is  not  yet  with  them,  so  they  often 
seem  in  the  midst  of  the  world’s  affairs  to  be  preposter- 
ous. Yet  they  are  impregnators  of  the  world,  vivifiers 
and  animaters  of  potentialities  of  goodness  which  but  for 
them  would  lie  forever  dormant.  It  is  not  possible  to  be 
quite  as  mean  as  we  naturally  are,  when  they  have  passed 
before  us.  One  fire  kindles  another ; and  without  that 
over-trust  in  human  worth  which  they  show,  the  rest  of 
us  would  lie  in  spiritual  stagnancy. 

Momentarily  considered,  then,  the  saint  may  waste 
his  tenderness  and  be  the  dupe  and  victim  of  his  char- 
itable fever,  but  the  general  function  of  his  charity  in 
social  evolution  is  vital  and  essential.  If  things  are  ever 
to  move  upward,  some  one  must  be  ready  to  take  the 
first  step,  and  assume  the  risk  of  it.  No  one  who  is  not 
willing  to  try  charity,  to  try  non-resistance  as  the  saint 
is  always  willing,  can  tell  whether  these  methods  will  or 
will  not  succeed.  When  they  do  succeed,  they  are  far 
more  powerfully  successful  than  force  or  worldly  pru- 
dence. Force  destroys  enemies  ; and  the  best  that  can 
be  said  of  prudence  is  that  it  keeps  what  we  already  have 
in  safety.  But  non-resistance,  when  successful,  turns 
enemies  into  friends  ; and  charity  regenerates  its  objects. 
These  saintly  methods  are,  as  I said,  creative  energies ; 
and  genuine  saints  find  in  the  elevated  excitement  with 
which  their  faith  endows  them  an  authority  and  impres- 
siveness which  makes  them  irresistible  in  situations  where 
men  of  shallower  nature  cannot  get  on  at  aU  without 
the  use  of  worldly  prudence.  This  practical  proof  that 
worldly  wisdom  may  be  safely  transcended  is  the  saint’s 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


359 


magic  gift  to  mankind.^  Not  only  does  kis  vision  of  a 
better  world  console  us  for  the  generally  prevailing  prose 

^ The  best  missionary  lives  abound  in  the  victorious  combination  of  non- 
lesistance  vfith  personal  authority.  John  G.  Paton,  for  example,  in  the 
New  Hebrides,  among  brutish  Melanesian  cannibals,  preserves  a charmed 
life  by  dint  of  it.  When  it  comes  to  the  point,  no  one  ever  dares  actually 
to  strike  him.  Native  converts,  inspired  by  him,  showed  analogous  virtue. 
“ One  of  our  chiefs,  full  of  the  Christ-kindled  desire  to  seek  and  to  save, 
sent  a message  to  an  inland  chief,  that  he  and  four  attendants  would  come 
on  Sabbath  and  tell  them  the  gospel  of  Jehovah  God.  The  reply  came  back 
sternly  forbidding  their  visit,  and  threatening  with  death  any  Christian 
that  approached  their  village.  Our  chief  sent  in  response  a loving  message, 
telling  them  that  Jehovah  had  taught  the  Christians  to  return  good  for 
evil,  and  that  they  would  come  unarmed  to  tell  them  the  story  of  how  the 
Son  of  God  came  into  the  world  and  died  in  order  to  bless  and  save  his 
enemies.  The  heathen  chief  sent  back  a stern  and  prompt  reply  once 
more  : ‘ If  you  come,  you  will  be  killed.’  On  Sabbath  morn  the  Christian 
chief  and  his  four  companions  were  met  outside  the  village  by  the  heathen 
chief,  who  implored  and  threatened  them  once  more.  But  the  former 
said  : — 

“‘We  come  to  you  without  weapons  of  war  ! We  come  only  to  tell  you 
about  Jesus.  We  believe  that  He  will  protect  us  to-day.’ 

“ As  they  pressed  steadily  forward  towards  the  village,  spears  began  to  be 
thrown  at  them.  Some  they  evaded,  being  all  except  one  dexterous  war- 
riors ; and  others  they  literally  received  with  their  bare  hands,  and  turned 
them  aside  in  an  incredible  manner.  The  heathen,  apparently  thunderstruck 
at  these  men  thus  approaching  them  without  weapons  of  war,  and  not  even 
flinging  back  their  own  spears  which  they  had  caught,  after  having  thrown 
what  the  old  chief  called  ‘ a shower  of  spears,’  desisted  from  mere  sur- 
, prise.  Our  Christian  chief  called  out,  as  he  and  his  companions  drew  up  in 
1 the  midst  of  them  on  the  village  public  ground  ; — 

“‘Jehovah  thus  protects  us.  He  has  given  us  all  your  spears  ! Once  we 
would  have  thrown  them  back  at  you  and  killed  you.  But  now  we  come, 
not  to  fight  but  to  tell  you  about  Jesus.  He  has  changed  our  dark  hearts, 
i He  asks  you  now  to  lay  down  all  these  your  other  weapons  of  war,  and  to 
hear  what  we  can  tell  you  about  the  love  of  Gnd,  our  great  Father,  the 
only  living  God.’ 

' “ The  heathen  were  perfectly  overawed.  They  manifestly  looked  on  these 

I Christians  as  protected  by  some  Invisible  One.  They  listened  for  the  first 
time  to  the  story  of  the  Gospel  and  of  the  Cross.  We  lived  to  see  that 
: chief  and  all  his  tribe  sitting  in  the  school  of  Christ.  And  there  is  perhaps 
I not  an  island  in  these  southern  seas,  amongst  all  those  won  for  Christ, 
I where  similar  acts  of  heroism  on  the  par’'  of  converts  cannot  be  recited.” 
' John  G.  Baton,  Missionary  to  the  New  Hebrides,  An  Autobiography, 
t rec^nd  part,  London,  1890,  p.  243. 


360  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


and  barrenness ; but  even  when  on  the  whole  we  have  to 
confess  him  ill  adapted,  he  makes  some  converts,  and  the 
environment  gets  better  for  his  ministry.  He  is  an  effec- 
tive ferment  of  goodness,  a slow  transmuter  of  the  earthly 
into  a more  heavenly  order. 

In  this  respect  the  Utopian  dreams  of  social  justice  in 
which  many  contemporary  socialists  and  anarchists  indulge 
are,  in  spite  of  their  impracticability  and  non-adaptation 
to  present  environmental  conditions,  analogous  to  the 
saint’s  belief  in  an  existent  kingdom  of  heaven.  They 
help  to  break  the  edge  of  the  general  reign  of  hardness, 
and  are  slow  leavens  of  a better  order. 

The  next  topic  in  order  is  Asceticism,  which  I fancy 
you  are  all  ready  to  consider  without  argument  a virtue 
liable  to  extravagance  and  excess.  The  optimism  and 
refinement  of  the  modern  imagination  has,  as  I have 
already  said  elsewhere,  changed  the  attitude  of  the  church 
towards  corporeal  mortification,  and  a Suso  or  a Saint 
Peter  of  Alcantara  ^ appear  to  us  to-day  rather  in  the 

1 Saint  Peter,  Saint  Teresa  tells  us  in  her  autobiography  (Freneh  trans- 
lation, p.  333),  “ had  passed  forty  years  without  ever  sleeping  more  than 
an  hour  and  a half  a day.  Of  all  his  mortifications,  this  was  the  one  that 
had  cost  him  the  most.  To  compass  it,  he  kept  always  on  his  knees  or  on 
his  feet.  The  little  sleep  he  allowed  nature  to  take  was  snatched  in  a sit- 
ting posture,  his  head  leaning  against  a piece  of  wood  fixed  in  the  wall. 
Even  had  he  wished  to  lie  down,  it  would  have  been  impossible,  because  his 
cell  was  only  four  feet  and  a half  long.  In  the  course  of  all  these  years  he 
never  raised  his  hood,  no  matter  what  the  ardor  of  the  sun  or  the  rain’s 
strength.  He  never  put  on  a shoe.  He  wore  a garment  of  coarse  sack- 
cloth, with  nothing  else  upon  his  skin.  This  garment  was  as  scant  as  pos- 
sible, and  over  it  a little  cloak  of  the  same  stuff.  When  the  cold  was  great 
he  took  off  the  cloak  and  opened  for  a while  the  door  and  little  window  of 
Lis  cell.  Then  he  closed  them  and  resumed  the  mantle,  — his  way,  as  he 
told  us,  of  warming  himself,  and  making  his  body  feel  a better  tempera- 
ture. It  was  a frequent  thing  with  him  to  eat  once  only  in  three  days  ; 
and  when  I expressed  my  surprise,  he  said  that  it  was  very  easy  if  one  once 
had  acquired  the  habit.  One  of  his  companions  has  assured  me  that  he  has 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


361 


light  of  tragic  mountebanks  than  of  sane  men  inspiring 
us  with  respect.  If  the  inner  dispositions  are  right,  we 
ask,  what  need  of  all  this  torment,  this  violation  of  the 
outer  nature  ? It  keeps  the  outer  nature  too  important. 
Any  one  who  is  genuinely  emancipated  from  the  flesh 
will  look  on  pleasures  and  pains,  abundance  and  priva- 
tion, as  alike  irrelevant  and  indifferent.  He  can  engage 
in  actions  and  experience  enjoyments  without  fear  of 
corruption  or  enslavement.  As  the  Bhagavad-Gita  says, 
only  those  need  renounce  worldly  actions  who  are  still 
inwardly  attached  thereto.  If  one  be  really  unattached 
to  the  fruits  of  action,  one  may  mix  in  the  world  with 
equanimity.  I quoted  in  a former  lecture  Saint  Augus- 
tine’s antinomian  saying : If  you  only  love  God  enough, 
you  may  safely  follow  all  your  inclinations.  “ He  needs 
no  devotional  practices,”  is  one  of  Ramakrishna’s  max- 
ims, “ whose  heart  is  moved  to  tears  at  the  mere  mention 
of  the  name  of  Hari.”  ^ And  the  Buddha,  in  pointing 
out  what  he  called  ‘the  middle  way’  to  his  disciples, 
told  them  to  abstain  from  both  extremes,  excessive  mor- 
tification being  as  unreal  and  unworthy  as  mere  desire 
and  pleasure.  The  only  perfect  life,  he  said,  is  that  of 
inner  wisdom,  which  makes  one  thing  as  indifferent  to 


gone  sometimes  eight  days  without  food.  . . . His  poverty  was  extreme  ; 
and  his  mortification,  even  in  his  youth,  was  such  that  he  told  me  he  had 
passed  three  years  in  a house  of  his  order  without  knowing  any  of  the 
monks  otherwise  than  by  the  sound  of  their  voice,  for  he  never  raised  his 
eyes,  and  only  found  his  way  about  by  following  the  others.  He  showed 
this  same  modesty  on  public  highways.  He  spent  many  years  without  ever 
laying  eyes  upon  a woman  ; but  he  confessed  to  me  that  at  the  age  he  had 
reached  it  was  indifferent  to  him  whether  he  laid  eyes  on  them  or  not.  He 
was  very  old  when  I first  came  to  know  him,  and  his  body  so  attenuated 
that  it  seemed  formed  of  nothing  so  much  as  of  so  many  roots  of  trees. 
With  all  this  sanctity  he  was  very  affable.  He  never  spoke  unless  he  was 
questioned,  but  his  intellectual  right-mindedness  and  grace  gave  to  all  hia 
words  an  irresistible  charm.” 

^ F.  Max  Muller  : Ramakrishna,  his  Life  and  Sayings,  1899,  n.  180. 


362  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


US  as  another,  and  thus  leads  to  rest,  to  peace,  and  to 
Nirvana.^ 

We  find  accordingly  that  as  ascetic  saints  have  grown 
older,  and  directors  of  conscience  more  experienced, 
they  usually  have  shown  a tendency  to  lay  less  stress 
on  special  bodily 'mortifications.  Catholic  teachers  have 
always  professed  the  rule  that,  since  health  is  needed  for 
efficiency  in  God’s  service,  health  must  not  be  sacrificed 
to  mortification.  The  general  optimism  and  healthy- 
mindedness  of  liberal  Protestant  circles  to-day  makes 
mortification  for  mortification’s  sake  repugnant  to  us. 
We  can  no  longer  sympathize  with  cruel  deities,  and 
the  notion  that  God  can  take  dehght  in  the  spectacle  of 
sufferings  self-inflicted  in  his  honor  is  abhorrent.  In 
consequence  of  all  these  motives  you  probably  are  dis- 
posed, unless  some  special  utility  can  be  shown  in  some 
individual’s  discipline,  to  treat  the  general  tendency  to 
asceticism  as  pathological. 

Yet  I believe  that  a more  careful  consideration  of  the 
whole  matter,  distinguishing  between  the  general  good 
intention  of  asceticism  and  the  uselessness  of  some  of  the 
particular  acts  of  which  it  may  be  guilty,  ought  to  re- 
habilitate it  in  our  esteem.  For  in  its  spiritual  meaning 
asceticism  stands  for  nothing  less  than  for  the  essence  of 
the  twice-born  philosophy.  It  symbolizes,  lamely  enough 
no  doubt,  but  sincerely,  the  belief  that  there  is  an  ele- 
ment of  real  wrongness  in  this  world,  which  is  neither  to 
be  ignored  nor  evaded,  but  which  must  be  squarely  met 
and  overcome  by  an  appeal  to  the  soul’s  heroic  resources, 
and  neutralized  and  cleansed  away  by  suffering.  As 
against  this  view,  the  ultra-optimistic  form  of  the  once- 
born  philosophy  thinks  we  may  treat  evil  by  the  method 
of  ignoring.  Let  a man  who,  by  fortunate  health  and  cir- 
1 Oldenberg;  Buddha;  translated  by  W.  Hoey,  London,  1882,  p.  127 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


363 


3um  stances,  escapes  the  suffering  of  any  great  amount  of 
evil  in  his  own  person,  also  close  his  eyes  to  it  as  it  exists 
in  the  wider  universe  outside  his  private  experience,  and 
lie  will  be  quit  of  it  altogether,  and  can  sail  through  life 
tiappily  on  a healthy-minded  basis.  But  we  saw  in  our 
lectmres  on  melancholy  how  precarious  this  attempt  neces- 
sarily is.  Moreover  it  is  but  for  the  individual ; and 
leaves  the  evil  outside  of  him,  unredeemed  and  unpro- 
vided for  in  his  philosophy. 

No  such  attempt  can  be  a general  solution  of  the 
problem ; and  to  minds  of  sombre  tinge,  who  naturally 
feel  life  as  a tragic  mystery,  such  optimism  is  a shal- 
low dodge  or  mean  evasion.  It  accepts,  in  lieu  of  a 
real  dehverance,  what  is  a lucky  personal  accident  merely, 
a cranny  to  escape  by.  It  leaves  the  general  world  un- 
helped and  still  in  the  clutch  of  Satan.  The  real  dehver- 
ance, the  twice-born  folk  insist,  must  be  of  universal 
apphcation.  Pain  and  wrong  and  death  must  be  fairly 
met  and  overcome  in  higher  excitement,  or  else  their 
sting  remains  essentially  unbroken.  If  one  has  ever 
taken  the  fact  of  the  prevalence  of  tragic  death  in  this 
world’s  history  fairly  into  his  mind,  — freezing,  drowning, 
entombment  alive,  wild  beasts,  worse  men,  and  hideous 
diseases,  — he  can  with  dif&culty,  it  seems  to  me,  con- 
tinue his  own  career  of  worldly  prosperity  without  sus- 
pecting that  he  may  aU  the  while  not  be  really  inside  the 
game,  that  he  may  lack  the  great  initiation. 

W ell,  this  is  exactly  what  asceticism  thinks ; and  it 
voluntarily  takes  the  initiation.  Life  is  neither  farce  nor 
genteel  comedy,  it  says,  but  something  we  mnst  sit  at  in 
mourning  garments,  hoping  its  bitter  taste  will  purge  us 
of  our  folly.  The  wild  and  the  heroic  are  indeed  such 
rooted  parts  of  it  that  healthy-mindedness  pure  and  sim- 
ple, with  its  sentimental  optimism,  can  hardly  be  regarded 


364  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


by  any  thinking  man  as  a serious  solution.  Phrases  of ! 
neatness,  cosiness,  and  comfort  can  never  be  an  answer  to ! 
the  sphinx’s  riddle. 

In  these  remarks  I am  leaning  only  upon  mankind’s 
common  instinct  for  reality,  which  in  point  of  fact  has 
always  held  the  world  to  be  essentially  a theatre  for 
heroism.  In  heroism,  we  feel,  life’s  supreme  mystery  is 
hidden.  We  tolerate  no  one  who  has  no  capacity  what- 
ever for  it  in  any  direction.  On  the  other  hand,  noi 
matter  what  a man’s  frailties  otherwise  may  be,  if  he  be ! 
willing  to  risk  death,  and  still  more  if  he  suffer  it  hero- 
ically, in  the  service  he  has  chosen,  the  fact  consecrates  i 
him  forever.  Inferior  to  ourselves  in  this  or  that  way, 
if  yet  we  cling  to  life,  and  he  is  able  ‘ to  fling  it  away, 
like  a flower  ’ as  caring  nothing  for  it,  we  account  him 
in  the  deepest  way  our  born  superior.  Each  of  us  in  his  * 
own  person  feels  that  a high-hearted  indifference  to  lifej 
would  expiate  all  his  shortcomings. 

The  metaphysical  mystery,  thus  recognized  by  com^j 
mon  sense,  that  he  who  feeds  on  death  that  feeds  on 
men  possesses  life  supereminently  and  excellently,  and 
meets  best  the  secret  demands  of  the  universe,  is  the 
truth  of  which  asceticism  has  been  the  faithful  champion.) 
The  folly  of  the  cross,  so  inexplicable  by  the  intellect, 
has  yet  its  indestructible  vital  meaning. 

Representatively,  then,  and  symbolically,  and  apart 
from  the  vagaries  into  which  the  unenlightened  intellect 
of  former  times  may  have  let  it  wander,  asceticism  must,  1 1 
beheve,  be  acknowledged  to  go  with  the  profounder  way 
of  handling  the  gift  of  existence.  Naturalistic  optimism  is 
mere  syllabub  and  flattery  and  sponge-cake  in  comparison. 
The  practical  course  of  action  for  us,  as  religious  men, , 
would  therefore,  it  seems  to  me,  not  be  simply  to  turn 
our  backs  upon  the  ascetic  impulse,  as  most  of  us  to-day 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


365 


turn  them,  but  rather  to  discover  some  outlet  for  it  of 
which  the  fruits  in  the  way  of  privation  and  hardship 
might  be  objectively  useful.  The  older  monastic  asceti- 
cism occupied  itself  with  pathetic  futilities,  or  terminated 
in  the  mere  egotism  of  the  individual,  increasing  his  own 
perfection.^  But  is  it  not  possible  for  us  to  discard  most 
of  these  older  forms  of  mortification,  and  yet  find  saner 
channels  for  the  heroism  which  inspired  them  ? 

Does  not,  for  example,  the  worship  of  material  luxury 
and  wealth,  which  constitutes  so  large  a portion  of  the 
‘spirit’  of  our  age,  make  somewhat  for  effeminacy  and 
unmanliness  ? Is  not  the  exclusively  sympathetic  and 
facetious  way  in  which  most  children  are  brought  up  to>- 
day  — so  different  from  the  education  of  a hundred  years 
ago,  especially  in  evangelical  circles  — in  danger,  in  spite 
of  its  many  advantages,  of  developing  a certain  trashi- 
ness of  fibre?  Are  there  not  hereabouts  some  points 
of  application  for  a renovated  and  revised  ascetic  disci- 
pline? 

Many  of  you  would  recognize  such  dangers,  but  would 
point  to  athletics,  militarism,  and  individual  and  national 
enterprise  and  adventure  as  the  remedies.  These  con- 
temporary ideals  are  quite  as  remarkable  for  the  energy 
with  which  they  make  for  heroic  standards  of  life,  as 
contemporary  religion  is  remarkable  for  the  way  in  which 
it  neglects  them.^  War  and  adventure  assuredly  keep 
aU  who  engage  in  them  from  treating  themselves  too 
tenderly.  They  demand  such  incredible  efforts,  depth 

' “ The  vanities  of  all  others  may  die  out,  but  the  vanity  of  a saint  as  re- 
gards his  sainthood  is  hard  indeed  to  wear  away.”  Ramakrishna,  his  Life 
Ind  Sayings,  1899,  p.  172. 

2 « When  a church  has  to  be  run  by  oysters,  ice-cream,  and  fun,”  I read 
in  an  American  religious  paper,  “ you  may  be  sure  that  it  is  running  away 
from  Christ.”  Such,  if  one  may  judge  by  appearances,  is  the  present  plight 
of  many  of  our  churches. 


366  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


( 


beyond  depth  of  exertion,  both  in  degree  and  in  dura- 
tion, that  the  whole  scale  of  motivation  alters.  Discom- 
fort and  annoyance,  hunger  and  wet,  pain  and  cold, 
squalor  and  filth,  cease  to  have  any  deterrent  operation 
whatever.  Death  turns  into  a commonplace  matter,  and 
its  usual  power  to  check  our  action  vanishes.  With  the^ 
annulling  of  these  customary  inhibitions,  ranges  of  new 
energy  are  set  free,  and  life  seems  cast  upon  a higher 
plane  of  power. 

The  beauty  of  war  in  this  respect  is  that  it  is  so  con- 
gruous with  ordinaryTiuman  nature.  Ancestral  evolution 
has  made  us  all  potential  warriors ; so  the  most  insignifi' 
cant  individual,  when  thrown  into  an  army  in  the  field,  h 
weaned  from  whatever  excess  of  tenderness  towards  hig| 
precious  person  he  may  bring  with  him,  and  may  easily 
develop  into  a monster  of  insensibility. 

But  when  we  compare  the  military  type  of  self -severity 
with  that  of  the  ascetic  saint,  we  find  a wo  rid- wide  differ-^ 
Bnce  in  all  their  spiritual  concomitants. 

“ ^ Live  and  let  live,’  ” writes  a clear-headed  Austrian 
officer,  “ is  no  device  for  an  army.  Contempt  for  one’s 
own  comrades,  for  the  troops  of  the  enemy,  and,  above 
ftU,  fierce  contempt  for  one’s  own  person,  are  what  war 
demands  of  every  one.  Far  better  is  it  for  an  army  to 
be  too  savage,  too  cruel,  too  barbarous,  than  to  possess 
too  much  sentimentality  and  human  reasonableness.  If{ 
the  soldier  is  to  be  good  for  anything  as  a soldier,  he 
must  be  exactly  the  opposite  of  a reasoning  and  thinking 
man.  The  measure  of  goodness  in  him  is  his  possible 
use  in  war.  War,  and  even  peace,  require  of  the  soldierj 
absolutely  peculiar  standards  of  morality.  The  recruit 
brings  with  him  common  moral  notions,  of  which  he, 
must  seek  immediately  to  get  rid.  For  him  victory,  suc- 
cess, must  be  everything.  The  most  barbaric  tendencies 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


367 


in  men  come  to  life  again  in  war,  and  for  war’s  uses  they 
ire  incommensurably  good.”  ^ 

These  words  are  of  course  literally  true.  The  imme- 
diate aim  of  the  soldier’s  life  is,  as  Moltke  said,  destruc- 
bion,  and  nothing  but  destruction ; and  whatever  con- 
structions wars  result  in  are  remote  and  non-military. 
Consequently  the  soldier  cannot  train  himself  to  be  too 
feelingless  to  aU  those  usual  sympathies  and  respects, 
whether  for  persons  or  for  things,  that  make  for  conser- 
vation. Yet  the  fact  remains  that  war  is  a school  of 
strenuous  life  and  heroism  ; and,  being  in  the  line  of 
aboriginal  instinct,  is  the  only  school  that  as  yet  is  uni- 
versally available.  But  when  we  gravely  ask  oiu’selves 
whether  this  wholesale  organization  of  irrationality  and 
crime  be  our  only  bulwark  against  effeminacy,  we  stand 
aghast  at  the  thought,  and  think  more  kindly  of  ascetic 
religion.  One  hears  of  the  mechanical  equivalent  of  heat. 
What  we  now  need  to  discover  in  the  social  realm  is  the 
moral  eq^uivalent  of  _\var-i-- something  heroic  that  will 
speak  to  men  as  universally  as  war  does,  and  yet  will  be 
as  compatible  with  their  spiritual  selves  as  war  has  proved 
itself  to  be  incompatible.  I have  often  thought  that  in 
the  old  monkish  poverty-worship,  in  spite  of  the  pedan- 
try which  infested  it,  there  might  be  something  like  that 
moral  equivalent  of  war  which  we  are  seeking.  May 
not  voluntarily  accepted  poverty  be  ‘ the  strenuous  life/ 
without  the  need  of  crushing  weaker  peoples  ? 

Poverty  indeed  is  the  strenuous  life,  — without  brass 
bands  or  uniforms  or  hysteric  popular  applause  or  lies 
or  circumlocutions  ; and  when  one  sees  the  way  in  which 
wealth-getting  enters  as  an  ideal  into  the  very  bone  and 
marrow  of  our  generation,  one  wonders  whether  a revival 

^ C.  V.  B.  K.  : Friedens-  und  Kriegs-moral  der  Heere.  Quoted  by 
BLvmon  ; Psychologie  du  Militaire  professional,  1895,  p.  xli. 


368 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  the  belief  that  poverty  is  a worthy  religious  vocatior 
may  not  be  ‘the  transformation  of  military  courage,’  anc 
the  spiritual  reform  which  our  time  stands  most  in  need  of 

Among  us  English-speaking  peoples  especially  do  th( 
praises  of  poverty  need  once  more  to  be  boldly  sung^ 
We  have  grown  literally  afraid  to  be  poor.  We  despise 
any  one  who  elects  to  be  poor  in  order  to  simplify  and|‘! 
save  his  inner  life.  If  he  does  not  join  the  general 
scramble  and  pant  with  the  money-making  street,  we 
deem  him  spiritless  and  lacking  in  ambition.  We  have 
lost  the  power  even  of  imagining  what  the  ancient  ideali- 
zation of  poverty  could  have  meant : the  liberation  from ' 
material  attachments,  the  unbribed  soul,  the  manhei/ 
indifference,  the  paying  our  way  by  what  we  are  or  do 
and  not  by  what  we  have,  the  right  to  fling  away  our  life 
at  any  moment  irresponsibly,  — the  more  athletic  trim, 
in  short,  the  moral  fighting  shape.  When  we  of  thei 
so-called  better  classes  are  scared  as  men  were  never 
scared  in  history  at  material  ugliness  and  hardship  ;j 
when  we  put  off  marriage  until  our  house  can  be  artistic, 
and  quake  at  the  thought  of  having  a child  without  a 
bank-account  and  doomed  to  manual  labor,  it  is  time  for 
thinking  men  to  protest  against  so  unmanly  and  irre- 
ligious a state  of  opinion. 

It  is  true  that  so  far  as  wealth  gives  time  for  ideal 
ends  and  exercise  to  ideal  energies,  wealth  is  better  than 
poverty  and  ought  to  be  chosen.  Birt  wealth  does  this 
in  only  a portion  of  the  actual  cases.  Elsewhere  the 
desire  to  gain  wealth  and  the  fear  to  lose  it  are  our  chief 
breeders  of  cowardice  and  propagators  of  corruption. 
There  are  thousands  of  conjunctures  in  which  a wealth-, 
1 bound  man  must  be  a slave,  whilst  a man  for  whom|[ 
poverty  has  no  terrors  becomes  a freeman.  Think  of  the; 
strength  which  personal  indifference  to  poverty  would' 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


369 


give  US  if  we  were  devoted  to  unpopular  causes.  We 
need  no  longer  hold  our  tongues  or  fear  to  vote  the 
revolutionary  or  reformatory  ticket.  Our  stocks  might 
fall,  our  hopes  of  promotion  vanish,  our  salaries  stop, 
our  club  doors  close  in  our  faces ; yet,  while  we  hved,  we 
, would  imperturbably  bear  witness  to  the  spirit,  and  our 
, example  would  help  to  set  free  our  generation.  The 
cause  would  need  its  funds,  but  we  its  servants  would  be 
I potent  in  proportion  as  we  personally  were  contented  with 
our  poverty. 

I recommend  this  matter  to  your  serious  pondering, 
for  it  is  certain  that  the  prevalent  fear  of  poverty  among 
the  educated  classes  is  the  worst  moral  disease  from 
which  our  civilization  suffers. 

I have  now  said  all  that  I can  usefully  say  about  the 
several  fruits  of  religion  as  they  are  manifested  in  saintly 
lives,  so  I will  make  a brief  review  and  pass  to  my  more 
general  conclusions. 

Our  question,  you  will  remember,  is  as  to  whether  reli- 
gion stands  approved  by  its  fruits,  as  these  are  exhibited 
in  the  saintly  type  of  character.  Single  attributes  of 
, saintliness  may,  it  is  true,  be  temperamental  endowments, 
found  in  non-rehgious  individuals.  But  the  whole  group 
of  them  forms  a combination  which,  as  such,  is  religious, 
for  it  seems  to  flow  from  the  sense  of  the  divine  as  from 
its  psychological  centre.  Whoever  possesses  strongly 
this  sense  comes  naturally  to  think  that  the  smallest 
details  of  this  world  derive  infinite  significance  from 
their  relation  to  an  unseen  divine  order.  The  thought  of 
this  order  yields  him  a superior  denomination  of  happi- 
ne^and  a steadfastness  of  soul  with  which  no  other  can 
compare.  In  social  relations  his  serviceabihty  is  exem- 
plary ; he  abounds  in  impulses  to  help.  His  help  is  in- 


370  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

ward  as  well  as  outward,  for  his  sympathy  reaches  souls 
as  well  as  bodies,  and  kindles  unsuspected  faculties  therein.  ^ 
Instead  of  placing  happiness  where  common  men  place  it, 
in  comfort,  he  places  it  in  a higher  kind  of  inner  excite- 
ment, which  converts  discomforts  into  sources  of  cheer 
and  annuls  unhappiness.  So  he  turns  his  back  upon 
no  duty,  however  thankless ; and  when  we  are  in  need  of 
assistance,  we  can  count  upon  the  saint  lending  his  hand 
with  more  certainty  than  we  can  count  upon  any  other 
person.  Finally,  his  humble-mindedness  and  his  ascetic 
tendencies  save  him  from  the  petty  personal  pretensions 
which  so  obstruct  our  ordinary  social  intercourse,  and 
his  purity  gives  us  in  him  a clean  man  for  a companion. 
Felicity,  purity,  charity,  patience,  self-severity,  — these 
are  splendid  excellencies,  and  the  saint  of  all  men  shows 
them  in  the  completest  possible  measure. 

But,  as  we  saw,  all  these  things  together  do  not  make 
saints  infallible.  When  their  intellectual  outlook  is  nar- 
row, they  fall  into  all  sorts  of  holy  excesses,  fanaticism 
or  theopathic  absorption,  self-torment,  prudery,  scrupu- 
losity, gulHbility,  and  morbid  inability  to  meet  the  world. 
By  the  very  intensity  of  his  fidelity  to  the  paltry  ideals 
with  which  an  inferior  intellect  may  inspire  him,  a saint 
can  be  even  more  objectionable  and  damnable  than  a 
superficial  carnal  man  would  be  in  the  same  situation. 
We  must  judge  him  not  sentimentally  only,  and  not 
in  isolation,  but  using  our  own  intellectual  standards, 
placing  him  in  his  environment,  and  estimating  his  total 
function. 

Now  in  the  matter  of  intellectual  standards,  we  must 
bear  in  mind  that  it  is  unfair,  where  we  find  narrowness 
of  mind,  always  to  impute  it  as  a vice  to  the  individual, 
for  in  religious  and  theological  matters  he  probably  ab- 
sorbs bis  narrowness  from  his  generation.  Moreover,  we 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS  3'A 

must  not  confound  tlie  essentials  of  saintliness,  which  are 
those  general  passions  of  which  I have  spoken,  with  its 
accidents,  which  are  the  special  determinations  of  these 
passions  at  any  historical  moment.  In  these  determina* 
tions  the  saints  will  usually  be  loyal  to  the  temporary 
idols  of  their  tribe.  Taking’  refuge  in  monasteries  was  as 
much  an  idol  of  the  tribe  in  the  middle  ages,  as  bearing 
a hand  in  the  world’s  work  is  to-day.  Saint  Francis  or 
Saint  Bernard,  were  they  living  to-day,  would  undoubt- 
edly be  leading  consecrated  lives  of  some  sort,  but  quite 
as  undoubtedly  they  would  not  lead  them  in  retirement. 
Our  animosity  to  special  historic  manifestations  must  not 
lead  us  to  give  away  the  saintly  impulses  in  their  essential 
nature  to  the  tender  mercies  of  inimical  critics. 

The  most  inimical  critic  of  the  saintly  impulses  whom  I 
know  is  Nietzsche.  He  contrasts  them  with  the  worldly 
passions  as  we  find  these  embodied  in  the  predaceous  mili- 
tary character,  altogether  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter. 
Your  born  saint,  it  must  be  confessed,  has  something 
about  him  which  often  makes  the  gorge  of  a carnal  man 
rise,  so  it  will  be  worth  while  to  consider  the  contrast  in 
question  more  fully. 

Dislike  of  the  saintly  nature  seems  to  be  a negative 
result  of  the  biologically  useful  instinct  of  welcoming 
leadership,  and  glorifying  the  chief  of  the  tribe.  The 
chief  is  the  potential,  if  not  the  actual  tyrant,  the  mas- 
terful, overpowering  man  of  prey.  We  confess  our  in- 
feriority and  grovel  before  him.  We  quail  under  his 
glance,  and  are  at  the  same  time  proud  of  owning  so 
dangerous  a lord.  Such  instinctive  and  submissive  hero- 
worship  must  have  been  indispensable  in  primeval  tribal 
life.  In  the  endless  wars  of  those  times,  leaders  were 
absolutely  needed  for  the  tribe’s  survival.  If  there  were 
any  tribes  who  owned  no  leaders,  they  can  have  left  no 


372  THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


issue  to  narrate  their  doom.  The  leaders  always  had 
good  consciences,  for  conscience  in  them  coalesced  with 
will,  and  those  who  looked  on  their  face  were  as  much 
smitten  with  wonder  at  their  freedom  from  inner  restraint 
as  with  awe  at  the  energy  of  their  outward  performances. 

Compared  with  these  beaked  and  taloned  graspers  of 
the  world,  saints  are  herbivorous  animals,  tame  and  harm- 
less barn-yard  poultry.  There  are  saints  whose  beard 
you  may,  if  you  ever  care  to,  pull  with  impunity.  Such 
a man  excites  no  thrills  of  wonder  veiled  in  terror ; his 
conscience  is  full  of  scruples  and  returns  ; he  stuns  us 
neither  by  his  inward  freedom  nor  his  outward  power; 
and  unless  he  found  within  us  an  altogether  different 
faculty  of  admiration  to  appeal  to,  we  should  pass  him  by 
with  contempt. 

In  point  of  fact,  he  does  appeal  to  a different  faculty. 
Reenacted  in  human  nature  is  the  fable  of  the  wind,  the 
sun,  and  the  traveler.  The  sexes  embody  the  discrep- 
ancy. The  woman  loves  the  man  the  more  admiringly 
the  stormier  he  shows  himself,  and  the  world  deifies  its 
rulers  the  more  for  being  willful  and  unaccountable.  But 
the  woman  in  turn  subjugates  the  man  by  the  mystery  of 
gentleness  in  beauty,  and  the  saint  has  always  charmed 
the  world  by  something  similar.  Mankind  is  susceptible 
and  suggestible  in  opposite  directions,  and  the  rivalry  of 
influences  is  unsleeping.  The  saintly  and  the  worldly 
ideal  pursue  their  feud  in  literature  as  much  as  in  real  life. 

For  Nietzsche  the  saint  represents  little  but  sneaking- 
ness and  slavishness.  He  is  the  sophisticated  invalid,  the 
degenerate  par  excellence,  the  man  of  insufficient  vitahty. 
His  prevalence  would  put  the  human  type  in  danger. 

“ The  sick  are  the  greatest  danger  for  the  well.  The  weaker, 
not  the  stronger,  are  the  strong’s  undoing.  It  is  not  fear  of 
our  fellow-man,  which  we  should  wish  to  see  diminished  ; fo* 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


373 


fear  rouses  those  who  are  strong  to  become  terrible  in  turn 
themselves,  and  preserves  the  hard-earned  and  successful  type  of 
humanity.  What  is  to  be  dreaded  by  us  more  than  any  other 
doom  is  not  fear,  but  rather  the  great  disgust,  not  fear,  but 
rather  the  great  pity  — disgust  and  pity  for  our  human  fellows. 
. . . The  morhid  are  our  greatest  peril  — not  the  ‘bad’  men, 
not  the  predatory  beings.  Those  born  wrong,  the  miscarried, 
the  broken  — they  it  is,  the  weakest,  who  are  undermining  the 
vitality  of  the  race,  poisoning  our  trust  in  life,  and  putting  hu- 
manity in  question.  Every  look  of  them  is  a sigh,  — ‘ Would 
I were  something  other ! I am  sick  and  tired  of  what  I 
am.’  In  this  swamp-soil  of  self-contempt,  every  poisonous 
weed  flourishes,  and  all  so  small,  so  secret,  sq  dishonest,  and  so 
sweetly  rotten.  Here  swarm  the  worms  of  sensitiveness  and 
resentment ; here  the  air  smells  odious  with  secrecy,  with  what 
is  not  to  be  acknowledged  ; here  is  woven  endlessly  the  net  of 
the  meanest  of  conspiracies,  the  conspiracy  of  those  who  suffer 
against  those  who  succeed  and  are  victorious ; here  the  very 
aspect  of  the  victorious  is  hated  — as  if  health,  success,  strength, 
pride,  and  the  sense  of  power  were  in  themselves  things  vicious, 
for  which  one  ought  eventually  to  make  bitter  expiation.  Oh, 
how  these  people  would  themselves  like  to  inflict  the  expiation, 
how  they  thirst  to  be  the  hangmen ! And  all  the  while  their 
duplicity  never  confesses  their  hatred  to  be  hatred.”  ^ 

Poor  Nietzsche’s  antipathy  is  itself  sickly  enough,  hut  we 
all  know  what  he  means,  and  he  expresses  well  the  clash 
between  the  two  ideals.  The  carnivorous-minded  ^ strong 
man,’  the  adult  male  and  cannibal,  can  see  nothing  but 
mouldiness  and  morbidness  in  the  saint’s  gentleness  and 
self-severity,  and  regards  him  wdth  pure  loathing.  The 
whole  feud  revolves  essentially  upon  two  pivots  : Shall 
the  seen  world  or  the  unseen  world  be  our  chief  sphere 
of  adaptation  ? and  must  our  means  of  adaptation  in  this 
seen  world  be  aggressiveness  or  non-resistance  ? 

1 Zur  Genealogie  der  Moral,  Dritte  Abhandlung,  § 14.  I have  abridged, 
and  in  one  place  transposed,  a sentence. 


374  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


The  debate  is  serious.  In  some  sense  and  to  some 
degree  both  worlds  must  be  acknowledged  and  taken  ac- 
count of ; and  in  the  seen  world  both  aggressiveness  and 
non-resistance  are  needful.  It  is  a question  of  emphasis, 
of  more  or  less.  Is  the  saint’s  type  or  the  strong-man’s 
type  the  more  ideal  ? 

It  has  often  been  supposed,  and  even  now,  I think, 
it  is  supposed  by  most  persons,  that  there  can  be  one 
intrinsically  ideal  type  of  human  character.  A certain 
kind  of  man,  it  is  imagined,  must  be  the  best  man  abso- 
lutely and  apart  from  the  utility  of  his  function,  apart 
from  economical  considerations.  The  saint’s  type,  and 
the  knight’s  or  gentleman’s  type,  have  always  been  rival 
claimants  of  this  absolute  ideality ; and  in  the  ideal  of 
military  religious  orders  both  types  were  in  a manner 
blended.  According  to  the  empirical  philosophy,  how- 
ever, all  ideals  are  matters  of  relation.  It  would  be 
absurd,  for  example,  to  ask  for  a definition  of  ‘ the  ideal 
horse,’  so  long  as  dragging  drays  and  running  races, 
bearing  children,  and  jogging  about  with  tradesmen’s 
packages  all  remain  as  indispensable  differentiations  of 
equine  function.  You  may  take  what  you  call  a general 
aU-round  animal  as  a compromise,  but  he  will  be  inferior 
to  any  horse  of  a more  specialized  type,  in  some  one 
particular  direction.  We  must  not  forget  this  now  when, 
in  discussing  saintliness,  we  ask  if  it  be  an  ideal  type  of 
manhood.  We  must  test  it  by  its  economical  relations. 

I think  that  the  method  which  Mr.  Spencer  uses  in  his 
Data  of  Ethics  will  help  to  fix  our  opinion.  Ideality  in 
conduct  is  altogether  a matter  of  adaptation.  A society 
where  all  were  invariably  aggressive  would  destroy  itself 
by  inner  friction,  and  in  a society  where  some  are  aggres- 
sive, others  must  be  non-resistant,  if  there  is  to  be  any 
kind  of  order.  This  is  the  present  constitution  of  soci- 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


376 


ety,  and  to  the  mixture  we  owe  many  of  our  blessings. 
But  the  aggressive  members  of  society  are  always  tending 
to  become  bullies,  robbers,  and  swindlers ; and  no  one 
bebeves  that  such  a state  of  things  as  we  now  bve  in  is 
the  millennium.  It  is  meanwhile  quite  possible  to  con- 
ceive an  imaginary  society  in  which  there  should  be  no 
aggressiveness,  but  only  sympathy  and  fairness,  — any 
small  community  of  true  friends  now  realizes  such  a so- 
ciety, Abstractly  considered,  such  a society  on  a large 
scale  would  be  the  millennium,  for  every  good  thing 
might  be  realized  there  with  no  expense  of  friction.  To 
such  a millennial  society  the  saint  would  be  entirely 
adapted.  His  peaceful  modes  of  appeal  would  be  effica- 
cious over  his  companions,  and  there  would  be  no  one 
extant  to  take  advantage  of  his  non-resistance.  The 
saint  is  therefore  abstractly  a higher  type  of  man  than 
the  ^ strong  man,’  because  he  is  adapted  to  the  highest 
society  conceivable,  whether  that  society  ever  be  con- 
cretely possible  or  not.  The  strong  man  would  immedi- 
ately tend  by  his  presence  to  make  that  society  deteriorate. 
It  would  become  inferior  in  everything  save  in  a certain 
kind  of  bellicose  excitement,  dear  to  men  as  they  now  are. 

But  if  we  turn  from  the  abstract  question  to  the  actual 
situation,  we  find  that  the  individual  saint  may  be  well  or 
ill  adapted,  according  to  particular  circumstances.  There 
is,  in  short,  no  absoluteness  in  the  excellence  of  saint- 
hood. It  must  be  confessed  that  as  far  as  this  world 
goes,  any  one  who  makes  an  out-and-out  saint  of  him- 
self does  so  at  his  peril.  If  he  is  not  a large  enough 
man,  he  may  appear  more  insignificant  and  contemptible, 
for  all  his  saintship,  than  if  he  had  remained  a world- 
ling.^ Accordingly  religion  has  seldom  been  so  radically 


^ We  all  know  daft  saints,  and  they  inspire  a queer  kind  of  aversion. 
But  in  comparing  saints  with  strong  men  we  must  choose  individuals  on 


876  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

taken  in  our  Western  world  that  the  devotee  could  not 
mix  it  with  some  worldly  temper.  It  has  always  found 
good  men  who  could  foUow  most  of  its  impulses,  hut 
who  stopped  short  when  it  came  to  non-resistance.  Christ 
himself  was  fierce  upon  occasion.  Cromwells,  Stonewall 
Jacksons,  Gordons,  show  that  Christians  can  be  strong 
men  also. 

How  is  success  to  be  absolutely  measured  when  there 
are  so  many  environments  and  so  many  ways  of  looking 
at  the  adaptation  ? It  cannot  be  measured  absolutely ; 
the  verdict  will  vary  according  to  the  point  of  view 
adopted.  From  the  biological  point  of  view  Saint  Paul 
was  a failure,  because  he  was  beheaded.  Yet  he  was 
magnificently  adapted  to  the  larger  environment  of  his- 
tory ; and  so  far  as  any  saint’s  example  is  a leaven  of 
righteousness  in  the  world,  and  draws  it  in  the  direction 
of  more  prevalent  habits  of  saintliness,  he  is  a success, 
no  matter  what  his  immediate  bad  fortune  may  be.  The 
greatest  saints,  the  spiritual  heroes  whom  every  one 
acknowledges,  the  Francises,  Bernards,  Luthers,  Loyo- 
las,  Wesleys,  Channings,  Moodys,  Gratrys,  the  Phillips 
Brookses,  the  Agnes  Joneses,  Margaret  Hallahans,  and 
Dora  Pattisons,  are  successes  from  the  outset.  They 
show  themselves,  and  there  is  no  question ; every  one 
perceives  their  strength  and  stature.  Their  sense  of 
mystery  in  things,  their  passion,  their  goodness,  irradiate 
about  them  and  enlarge  their  outlines  while  they  soften 
them.  They  are  like  pictures  with  an  atmosphere  and 
background ; and,  placed  alongside  of  them,  the  strong 
men  of  this  world  and  no  other  seem  as  dry  as  sticks,  as 
hard  and  crude  as  blocks  of  stone  or  brickbats. 

the  same  intellectual  level.  The  under-witted  strong  man,  homologous 
in  his  sphere  with  the  under-witted  saint,  is  the  bully  of  the  slums,  the 
hooligan  or  rowdy.  Surely  on  this  level  also  the  saint  preserves  a certain 
superiority. 


THE  VALUE  OF  SAINTLINESS 


377 


In  a general  way,  then,  and  ‘ on  the  whole,’  ^ our 
abandonment  of  theological  criteria,  and  our  testing  of 
rehgion  by  practical  common  sense  and  the  empirical 
method,  leave  it  in  possession  of  its  towering  place  in 
history.  Economically,  the  saintly  group  of  qualities  is 
indispensable  to  the  world’s  welfare.  The  great  saints 
are  immediate  successes ; the  smaller  ones  are  at  least 
heralds  and  harbingers,  and  they  may  be  leavens  also,  of 
a better  mundane  order.  Let  us  be  saints,  then,  if  we 
can,  whether  or  not  we  succeed  visibly  and  temporally. 
But  in  our  Father’s  house  are  many  mansions,  and  each 
of  us  must  discover  for  himself  the  kind  of  religion  and 
the  amount  of  saintship  which  best  comports  with  what 
he  beheves  to  be  his  powers  and  feels  to  be  his  truest 
mission  and  vocation.  There  are  no  successes  to  be  guar- 
anteed and  no  set  orders  to  be  given  to  individuals,  so 
long  as  we  follow  the  methods  of  empirical  philosophy. 

This  is  my  conclusion  so  far.  I know  that  on  some 
of  your  minds  it  leaves  a feeling  of  wonder  that  such  a 
method  should  have  been  apphed  to  such  a subject,  and 
this  in  spite  of  all  those  remarks  about  empiricism  which 
I made  at  the  beginning  of  Lecture  XIII.^  How,  you 
say,  can  rehgion,  which  beheves  in  two  worlds  and  an 
invisible  order,  be  estimated  by  the  adaptation  of  its 
fruits  to  this  world’s  order  alone?  It  is  its  truth,  not 
its  utihty,  you  insist,  upon  which  our  verdict  ought  to 
depend.  If  rehgion  is  true,  its  fruits  are  good  fruits, 
even  though  in  this  world  they  should  prove  uniformly 
ill  adapted  and  full  of  naught  but  pathos.  It  goes  back, 
then,  after  aU,  to  the  question  of  the  truth  of  theology. 
The  plot  inevitably  thickens  upon  us ; we  cannot  escape 
theoretical  considerations.  I propose,  then,  that  to  some 
1 See  above,  p.  327.  ® Above,  pp.  327-334. 


378  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

degree  we  face  the  responsibility.  Religious  persons 
have  often,  though  not  uniformly,  professed  to  see  truth 
in  a special  manner.  That  manner  is  known  as  mysti- 
cism. I will  consequently  now  proceed  to  treat  at  some 
length  of  mystical  phenomena,  and  after  that,  though 
more  briefly,  I will  consider  religious  philosophy. 


LECTURES  XVI  AND  XVII 

MYSTICISM 

OVER  and  over  again  in  these  lectures  I have  raised 
points  and  left  them  open  and  unfinished  until  we 
should  have  come  to  the  subject  of  Mysticism.  Some  of 
you,  I fear,  may  have  smiled  as  you  noted  my  reiterated 
postponements.  But  now  the  hour  has  come  when  mys- 
ticism must  be  faced  in  good  earnest,  and  those  broken 
threads  wound  up  together.  One  may  say  truly,  I think, 
that  personal  religious  experience  has  its  root  and  centre 
in  mystical  states  of  consciousness ; so  for  us,  who  in 
these  lectures  are  treating  personal  experience  as  the 
exclusive  subject  of  our  study,  such  states  of  conscious- 
ness ought  to  form  the  vital  chapter  from  which  the 
other  chapters  get  their  light.  Whether  my  treatment 
of  mystical  states  will  shed  more  light  or  darkness,  I do 
not  know,  for  my  own  constitution  shuts  me  out  from 
their  enjoyment  almost  entirely,  and  I can  speak  of  them 
only  at  second  hand.  But  though  forced  to  look  upon 
the  subject  so  externally,  I will  be  as  objective  and  re- 
ceptive as  I can ; and  I think  I shall  at  least  succeed  in 
convincing  you  of  the  reality  of  the  states  in  question, 
and  of  the  paramount  importance  of  their  function. 

First  of  all,  then,  I ask.  What  does  the  expression 
‘ mystical  states  of  consciousness  ’ mean  ? How  do  we 
part  off  mystical  states  from  other  states? 

The  words  ^ mysticism  ’ and  ‘ mystical  ’ are  often  used 
as  terms  of  mere  reproach,  to  throw  at  any  opinion  which 
we  regard  as  vague  and  vast  and  sentimental,  and  with- 


380  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


out  a base  in  either  facts  or  logic.  For  some  writers  a 
^ mystic  ’ is  any  person  who  believes  in  thought-transfer- 
ence, or  spirit-return.  Employed  in  this  way  the  word 
has  little  value  : there  are  too  many  less  ambiguous  syn- 
onyms. So,  to  keep  it  useful  by  restricting  it,  I will  do 
what  I did  in  the  case  of  the  word  ‘ religion,’  and  simply 
^ propose  to  you  four  marks  which,  when  an  experience 
has  them,  may  justify  us  in  calling  it  mystical  for  the 
purpose  of  the  present  lectures.  In  this  way  we  shall 
save  verbal  disputation,  and  the  recriminations  that  gen- 
erally go  therewith. 

1.  Ineff ability . — The  handiest  of  the  marks  by  which 
I classify  a state  of  mind  as  mystical  is  negative.  The 
subject  of  it  immediately  says  that  it  defies  expression, 
that  no  adequate  report  of  its  contents  can  be  given  in 
words.  It  follows  from  this  that  its  quahty  must  be 
directly  experienced ; it  cannot  be  imparted  or  trans- 
ferred to  others.  In  this  peculiarity  mystical  states  are 
more  like  states  of  feeling  than  like  states  of  intellect. 
No  one  can  make  clear  to  another  who  has  never  had  a 
certain  feeling,  in  what  the  quality  or  worth  of  it  con- 
sists. One  must  have  musical  ears  to  know  the  value  of 
a symphony ; one  must  have  been  in  love  one’s  self  to 
understand  a lover’s  state  of  mind.  Lacking  the  heart 
or  ear,  we  cannot  interpret  the  musician  or  the  lover 
justly,  and  are  even  likely  to  consider  him  weak-minded 
or  absurd.  The  mystic  finds  that  most  of  us  accord  to 
his  experiences  an  equally  incompetent  treatment. 

2.  Noetic  quality.  — Although  so  similar  to  states  of 
feeling,  mystical  states  seem  to  those  who  experience 

' them  to  be  also  states  of  knowledge.  They  are  states  of 
insight  into  depths  of  truth  unplumbed  by  the  discursive 
intellect.  They  are  illuminations,  revelations,  full  of  sig- 
nificance and  importance,  all  inarticulate  though  thej 


MYSTICISM 


381 


remain ; and  as  a rule  they  carry  with  them  a curious 
sense  of  authority  for  after-time. 

These  two  characters  will  entitle  any  state  to  be  called 
mystical,  in  the  sense  in  which  I use  the  word.  Two 
. other  qualities  are  less  sharply  marked,  but  are  usually 
. found.  These  are  : — 

3.  Transiency.  — Mystical  states  cannot  be  sustained 
for  long.  Except  in  rare  instances,  half  an  hour,  or  at 
most  an  hour  or  two,  seems  to  be  the  limit  beyond  which 
they  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day.  Often,  when 
faded,  their  quality  can  but  imperfectly  be  reproduced  in 
memory ; but  when  they  recur  it  is  recognized ; and  from 
one  recurrence  to  another  it  is  susceptible  of  continuous 
development  in  what  is  felt  as  inner  richness  and  impor- 
tanceo 

4.  Passivity.  — Although  the  oncoming  of  mystical 
states  may  be  facilitated  by  preliminary  voluntary  opera- 
tions, as  by  fixing  the  attention,  or  going  through  certain 
bodily  performances,  or  in  other  ways  which  manuals  of 
mysticism  prescribe ; yet  when  the  characteristic  sort  of 
consciousness  once  has  set  in,  the  mystic  feels  as  if  his 
own  will  were  in  abeyance,  and  indeed  sometimes  as  if 
he  were  grasped  and  held  by  a superior  power.  This 
latter  pecuharity  connects  mystical  states  with  certain 
definite  phenomena  of  secondary  or  alternative  person- 
ahty,  such  as  prophetic  speech,  automatic  writing,  or  the 
mediumistic  trance.  When  these  latter  conditions  are 
well  pronounced,  however,  there  may  he  no  recollection 
whatever  of  the  phenomenon,  and  it  may  have  no  sig- 
nificance for  the  subject’s  usual  inner  life,  to  which,  as 
it  were,  it  makes  a mere  interruption.  Mystical  states, 
strictly  so  called,  are  never  merely  interruptive.  Some 
memory  of  their  content  always  remains,  and  a profound 
sense  of  their  importance.  They  modify  the  inner  life 


382  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  the  subject  between  the  times  of  their  recurrence^ 
Sharp  divisions  in  this  region  are,  however,  difficult  to'J 
make,  and  we  find  all  sorts  of  gradations  and  mixtures. 

These  four  characteristics  are  sufficient  to  mark  out  a 
group  of  states  of  consciousness  peculiar  enough  to 
deserve  a special  name  and  to  call  for  careful  study. 
Let  it  then  be  called  the  mystical  group. 

Our  next  step  should  be  to  gain  acquaintance  with 
some  typical  examples.  Professional  mystics  at  the  height 
of  their  development  have  often  elaborately  organized 
experiences  and  a philosophy  based  thereupon.  But  you 
remember  what  I said  in  my  first  lecture : phenomena  are 
best  understood  when  placed  within  their  series,  studied 
in  their  germ  and  in  their  over-ripe  decay,  and  compared 
with  their  exaggerated  and  degenerated  kindred.  The 
range  of  mystical  experience  is  very  wide,  much  too  wide 
for  us  to  cover  in  the  time  at  our  disposal.  Yet  the 
method  of  serial  study  is  so  essential  for  interpretation 
that  if  we  really  wish  to  reach  conclusions  we  must  use 
it.  I will  begin,  therefore,  with  phenomena  which  claim 
no  special  religious  significance,  and  end  with  those  of 
which  the  religious  pretensions  are  extreme. 

The  simplest  rudiment  of  mystical  experience  would 
seem  to  be  that  deepened  sense  of  the  significance  of  a 
maxim  or  formula  which  occasionally  sweeps  over  one. 
‘‘  I ’ve  heard  that  said  all  my  life,”  we  exclaim,  “ but  I 
never  realized  its  full  meaning  until  now.”  When  a 
fellow-monk,”  said  Luther,  “ one  day  repeated  the  words 
of  the  Creed  : ‘ I beheve  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,’  I saw 
the  Scripture  in  an  entirely  new  light ; and  straightway 
I felt  as  if  I were  born  anew.  It  was  as  if  I had  found 
the  door  of  paradise  thrown  wide  open.”  ^ This  sense 

^ Newman’s  Securus  judicat  orbis  terrarum  is  another  instance. 


MYSTICISM 


383 


of  deeper  significance  is  not  confined  to  rational  proposi- 
tions. Single  words/  and  conjunctions  of  words,  effects 
of  light  on  land  and  sea,  odors  and  musical  sounds,  all 
bring  it  when  the  mind  is  tuned  aright.  Most  of  us  can 
remember  the  strangely  moving  power  of  passages  in  cer- 
tain poems  read  when  we  were  young,  irrational  door- 
ways as  they  were  through  which  the  mystery  of  fact, 
the  wildness  and  the  pang  of  life,  stole  into  our  hearts 
and  thrihed  them.  The  words  have  now  perhaps  become 
mere  polished  surfaces  for  us ; but  lyric  poetry  and  music 
are  alive  and  significant  only  in  proportion  as  they  fetch 
these  vague  vistas  of  a life  continuous  with  our  own, 
beckoning  and  inviting,  yet  ever  eluding  our  pursuit. 
We  are  ahve  or  dead  to  the  eternal  inner  message  of  the 
arts  according  as  we  have  kept  or  lost  this  mystical  sus- 
ceptibihty. 

A more  pronounced  step  forward  on  the  mystical  lad- 
der is  found  in  an  extremely  frequent  phenomenon,  that 
sudden  feeling,  namely,  which  sometimes  sweeps  over  us, 
of  having  ‘ been  here  before,’  as  if  at  some  indefinite  past 
time,  in  just  this  place,  with  just  these  people,  we  were 
already  saying  just  these  things.  As  Tennyson  writes : 

“ Moreover,  something  is  or  seems, 

That  touches  me  with  mystic  gleams, 

Like  glimpses  of  forgotten  dreams  — 

" Of  something  felt,  like  something  here  ; 

Of  something  done,  I know  not  where  ; 

Such  as  no  language  may  declare.”  ^ 

^ * Mesopotamia  ’ is  the  stock  comic  instance.  — An  excellent  old  German 
lady,  who  had  done  some  traveling  in  her  day,  used  to  describe  to  me  her 
Sehnsucht  that  she  might  yet  visit  ‘ Philadelphia,’  whose  wondrous  name 
had  always  haunted  her  imagination.  Of  John  Foster  it  is  said  that  “ single 
words  (as  chalcedony^,  or  the  names  of  ancient  heroes,  had  a mighty  fasci. 
nation  over  him.  ‘ At  any  time  the  word  hermit  was  enough  to  transport 
him.’  The  words  woods  and  forests  would  produce  the  most  powerful  emo- 
tion.” Foster’s  Life,  by  Hyland,  New  York,  1846,  p.  3. 

^ The  Two  Voices.  In  a letter  to  Mr.  B.  P.  Blood,  Tennyson  reports  ol 
himself  as  follows  : — 


384  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Sir  James  Crichton-Browne  has  given  the  technical  name 
of  ‘ dreamy  states  ’ to  these  sudden  invasions  of  vaguely 
reminiscent  consciousness.^  They  bring  a sense  of  mys* 
tery  and  of  the  metaphysical  duality  of  things,  and  the 
feeling  of  an  enlargement  of  perception  which  seems  im- 
minent hut  which  never  completes  itself.  In  Dr.  Crich- 
ton-Browne’s  opinion  they  connect  themselves  with  the 
perplexed  and  scared  disturbances  of  self-consciousness 
which  occasionally  precede  epileptic  attacks.  I think 
that  this  learned  alienist  takes  a rather  absurdly  alarmist 
view  of  an  intrinsically  insignificant  phenomenon.  He 
follows  it  along  the  downward  ladder,  to  insanity ; our 
path  pursues  the  upward  ladder  chiefly.  The  divergence 
shows  how  important  it  is  to  neglect  no  part  of  a phe* 
nomenon’s  connections,  for  we  make  it  appear  admirable 
or  dreadful  according  to  the  context  by  which  we  set 
it  off. 

Somewhat  deeper  plunges  into  mystical  consciousness 
are  met  with  in  yet  other  dreamy  states.  Such  feelings 

“ I have  rxever  had  any  revelations  through  anaesthetics,  hut  a kind  of 
waking  trance  — this  for  lack  of  a better  word  — I have  frequently  had, 
quite  up  from  boyhood,  when  I have  been  all  alone.  This  has  come  upon 
me  through  repeating  my  own  name  to  myself  silently,  till  all  at  once,  as  it 
were  out  of  the  intensity  of  the  consciousness  of  individuality,  individuality 
itself  seemed  to  dissolve  and  fade  away  into  boundless  being,  and  this  not 
a confused  state  but  the  clearest,  the  surest  of  the  surest,  utterly  beyond 
words  — where  death  was  an  almost  laughable  impossibility  — the  loss  of 
personality  (if  so  it  were)  seeming  no  extinction,  but  the  only  true  life.  I 
am  ashamed  of  my  feeble  description.  Have  I not  said  the  state  is  utterly 
beyond  words  ? ” 

Professor  Tyndall,  in  a letter,  recalls  Tennyson  saying  of  this  condition  ; 
“ By  God  Almighty  ! there  is  no  delusion  in  the  matter  ! It  is  no  nebulous 
ecstasy,  but  a state  of  transcendent  wonder,  associated  with  absolute  clear- 
ness of  mind.”  Memoirs  of  Alfred  Tennyson,  ii.  473. 

* The  Lancet,  July  6 and  13,  1895,  reprinted  as  the  Cavendish  Lecture, 
on  Dreamy  Mental  States,  London,  Baillifere,  1895.  They  have  been  a 
good  deal  discussed  of  late  by  psychologists.  See,  for  example,  BERNARr*. 
Leroy  : L’lllusion  de  Fausse  Reconnaissance,  Paris,  1898. 


MYSTICISM 


385 


as  these  which  Charles  Kingsley  describes  are  surely  fai 
from  being  uncommon,  especially  in  youth  : — 

“ When  I walk  the  fields,  I am  oppressed  now  and  then  with 
an  innate  feeling  that  everything  I see  has  a meaning,  if  I 
could  but  understand  it.  And  this  feeling  of  being  surrounded 
with  truths  which  I cannot  grasp  amounts  to  indescribable  awe 
sometimes.  . . . Have  you  not  felt  that  your  real  soul  was 
imperceptible  to  your  mental  vision,  except  in  a few  hallowed 
moments  ? ” ^ 

A much  more  extreme  state  of  mystical  consciousness 
is  described  by  J.  A.  Symonds ; and  probably  more  per- 
sons than  we  suspect  could  give  parallels  to  it  from  their 
own  experience. 

“ Suddenly,”  writes  Symonds,  “ at  church,  or  in  company,  or 
when  I was  reading,  and  always,  I think,  when  my  muscles 
were  at  rest,  I felt  the  approach  of  the  mood.  Irresistibly  it 
took  possession  of  my  mind  and  will,  lasted  what  seemed  an 
eternity,  and  disappeared  in  a series  of  rapid  sensations  which 
resembled  the  awakening  from  anaesthetic  influence.  One  rea- 
son why  I disliked  this  kind  of  trance  was  that  I could  not 
describe  it  to  myself.  I cannot  even  now  find  words  to  render 
it  intelligible.  It  consisted  in  a gradual  but  swiftly  progressive 
obliteration  of  space,  time,  sensation,  and  the  multitudinous 
factors  of  experience  which  seem  to  qualify  what  we  are  pleased 
to  call  our  Self.  In  proportion  as  these  conditions  of  ordinary 
consciousness  were  subtracted,  the  sense  of  an  underlying  or 
essential  consciousness  acquired  intensity.  At  last  nothing 
remained  but  a pure,  absolute,  abstract  Self.  The  universe 
became  without  form  and  void  of  content.  But  Self  persisted, 
formidable  in  its  vivid  keenness,  feeling  the  most  poignant 
doubt  about  reality,  ready,  as  it  seemed,  to  find  existence  break 
as  breaks  a bubble  round  about  it.  And  what  then  ? The 
apprehension  of  a coming  dissolution,  the  grim  conviction  that 
this  state  was  the  last  state  of  the  conscious  Self,  the  sense  that 

1 Charles  Kingsley’s  Life,  i.  55,  quoted  by  Inge  : Christian  Mysticism, 
London,  1899,  p.  341. 


386  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIEl^CE 


I had  followed  the  last  thread  of  being  to  the  verge  of  thfc 
abyss,  and  had  arrived  at  demonstration  of  eternal  Maya  or 
illusion,  stirred  or  seemed  to  stir  me  up  again.  The  return  to 
ordinary  conditions  of  sentient  existence  began  by  my  first 
recovering  the  power  of  touch,  and  then  by  the  gradual  though 
rapid  influx  of  familiar  impressions  and  diurnal  interests.  At 
last  I felt  myself  once  more  a human  being ; and  though  the 
riddle  of  what  is  meant  by  life  remained  unsolved,  I was  thank- 
ful for  this  return  from  the  abyss  — this  deliverance  from  so 
awful  an  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  skepticism. 

“ This  trance  recurred  with  diminishing  frequency  until  I 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-eight.  It  served  to  impress  upon  my 
growing  nature  the  phantasmal  unreality  of  all  the  circum- 
stances which  contribute  to  a merely  phenomenal  consciousness. 
Often  have  I asked  myself  with  anguish,  on  waking  from  that 
formless  state  of  denuded,  keenly  sentient  being.  Which  is  the 
unreality  ? — the  trance  of  fiery,  vacant,  apprehensive,  skeptical 
Self  from  which  I issue,  or  these  surrounding  phenomena  and 
habits  which  veil  that  inner  Self  and  build  a self  of  flesh-and- 
blood  conventionality  ? Again,  are  men  the  factors  of  some 
dream,  the  dream-like  unsubstantiality  of  which  they  compre- 
hend at  such  eventful  moments  ? What  would  happen  if  the 
final  stage  of  the  trance  were  reached  ? ” ^ 

In  a recital  like  this  there  is  certainly  something  sug- 
gestive of  pathology.^  The  next  step  into  mystical  states 
carries  us  into  a realm  that  public  opinion  and  ethical 
philosophy  have  long  since  branded  as  pathological, 
though  private  practice  and  certain  lyric  strains  of  poetry 


1 H.  F.  Brown  : J.  A.  Symonds,  a Biography,  London,  1895,  pp.  29-31, 
abridged. 

* Crichton-Browne  expressly  says  that  Symonds’s  “ highest  nerve  centres 
were  in  some  degree  enfeebled  or  damaged  by  these  dreamy  mental  states 
which  afflicted  him  so  grievously.”  Symonds  was,  however,  a perfect 
monster  of  many-sided  cerebral  efficiency,  and  his  critic  gives  no  objective 
grounds  whatever  for  his  strange  opinion,  save  that  Symonds  complained 
occasionally,  as  all  susceptible  and  ambitious  men  complain,  of  lassitude 
and  uncertainty  as  to  his  life’s  mission. 


MYSTICISM 


387 


seem  still  to  bear  witness  to  its  ideality.  I refer  to  the 
consciousness  produced  by  intoxicants  and  anaesthetics, 
especially  by  alcohol.  The  sway  of  alcohol  over  man- 
kind is  unquestionably  due  to  its  power  to  stimulate  the 
mystical  faculties  of  human  nature,  usually  crushed  to 
earth  by  the  cold  facts  and  dry  criticisms  of  the  sober 
hour.  Sobriety  diminishes,  discriminates,  and  says  no  ; 
drunkenness  expands,  unites,  and  says  yes.  It  is  in  fact 
the  great  exciter  of  the  Yes  function  in  man.  It  brings 
its  votary  from  the  chill  periphery  of  things  to  the  radi- 
ant core.  It  makes  him  for  the  moment  one  with  truth. 
Not  through  mere  perversity  do  men  run  after  it.  To  the 
poor  and  the  unlettered  it  stands  in  the  place  of  symphony 
concerts  and  of  literature ; and  it  is  part  of  the  deeper 
mystery  and  tragedy  of  life  that  whiffs  and  gleams  of 
i something  that  we  immediately  recognize  as  excellent 
should  be  vouchsafed  to  so  many  of  us  only  in  the  fleet- 
ing earlier  phases  of  what  in  its  totality  is  so  degrading 
a poisoning.  The  drunken  consciousness  is  one  bit  of  the 
mystic  consciousness,  and  our  total  opinion  of  it  must 
find  its  place  in  our  opinion  of  that  larger  whole. 

Nitrous  oxide  and  ether,  especially  nitrous  oxide, 
when  sufficiently  diluted  with  air,  stimulate  the  mystical 
consciousness  in  an  extraordinary  degree.  Depth  beyond 
depth  of  truth  seems  revealed  to  the  inhaler.  This  truth 
fades  out,  however,  or  escapes,  at  the  moment  of  coming 
to ; and  if  any  words  remain  over  in  which  it  seemed  to 
clothe  itseK,  they  prove  to  be  the  veriest  nonsense.  Never- 
theless, the  sense  of  a profound  meaning  having  been 
there  persists ; and  I know  more  than  one  person  who  is 
persuaded  that  in  the  nitrous  oxide  trance  we  have  a 
genuine  metaphysical  revelation. 

Some  years  ago  I myself  made  some  observations  on 
this  aspect  of  nitrous  oxide  intoxication,  and  reported 


388  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


them  in  print.  One  conclusion  was  forced  upon  my  mind 
at  that  time,  and  my  impression  of  its  truth  has  ever 
since  remained  unshaken.  It  is  that  our  normal  wak' 
ing  consciousness,  rational  consciousness  as  we  call  it,  is 
but  one  special  type  of  consciousness,  whilst  all  about 
it,  parted  from  it  by  the  filmiest  of  screens,  there  lie 
potential  forms  of  consciousness  entirely  different.  We 
may  go  through  life  without  suspecting  their  existence  ; 
but  apply  the  requisite  stimulus,  and  at  a touch  they  are 
there  in  all  their  completeness,  definite  types  of  mentality 
which  probably  somewhere  have  their  field  of  application 
and  adaptation.  No  account  of  the  universe  in  its  totality 
can  be  final  which  leaves  these  other  forms  of  conscious- 
ness  quite  disregarded.  How  to  regard  them  is  the  ques- 
tion, — for  they  are  so  discontinuous  with  ordinary  con- 
sciousness. Yet  they  may  determine  attitudes  though 
they  cannot  furnish  formulas,  and  open  a region  though 
they  fail  to  give  a map.  At  any  rate,  they  forbid  a 
premature  closing  of  our  accounts  with  reality.  Looking 
back  on  my  own  experiences,  they  ail  converge  towards  a 
kind  of  insight  to  which  I cannot  help  ascribing  some 
metaphysical  significance.  The  keynote  of  it  is  invariably 
a reconciliation.  It  is  as  if  the  opposites  of  the  world, 
whose  contradictoriness  and  conflict  make  all  our  difficul- 
ties and  troubles,  were  melted  into  unity.  Not  only  do 
they,  as  contrasted  species,  belong  to  one  and  the  same 
genus,  but  one  of  the  species,  the  nobler  and  better 
one,  is  itself  the  genus,  and  so  soaks  up  and  absorbs 
its  opposite  into  itself  This  is  a dark  saying,  I know, 
when  thus  expressed  in  terms  of  common  logic,  but  I 
cannot  wholly  escape  from  its  authority.  I feel  as  if  it 
must  mean  something,  something  like  what  the  hegelian 
philosophy  means,  if  one  could  only  lay  hold  of  it  more 
clearly.  Those  who  have  ears  to  hear,  let  them  hear; 


MYSTICISM 


389 


to  me  the  living  sense  of  its  reality  only  comes  in  the 
artificial  mystic  state  of  mind.^ 

I just  now  spoke  of  friends  who  believe  in  the  anaes- 
thetic revelation.  For  them  too  it  is  a monistic  insight, 
in  which  the  other  in  its  various  forms  appears  absorbed 
into  the  One. 

“ Into  this  pervading  genius,”  writes  one  of  them,  “ we  pass, 
forgetting  and  forgotten,  and  thenceforth  each  is  all,  in  God. 
There  is  no  higher,  no  deeper,  no  other,  than  the  life  in  which 
we  are  founded.  ‘ The  One  remains,  the  many  change  and 
pass  ; ’ and  each  and  every  one  of  us  is  the  One  that  remains. 
. . . This  is  the  ultimatum.  ...  As  sure  as  being  — whence 
is  all  our  care  — so  sure  is  content,  beyond  duplexity,  antithesis, 
or  trouble,  where  I have  triumphed  in  a solitude  that  God  is 
not  above.”  ^ 

* What  reader  of  Hegel  can  doubt  that  that  sense  of  a perfected  Being 
with  all  its  otherness  soaked  up  into  itself,  which  dominates  his  whole 
philosophy,  must  have  come  from  the  prominence  in  his  consciousness  of 
mystical  moods  like  this,  in  most  persons  kept  subliminal  ? The  notion  is 
thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  mystical  level,  and  the  Aufgahe  of  making  it 
articulate  was  surely  set  to  Hegel’s  intellect  by  mystical  feeling. 

2 Benjamin  Paul  Blood  : The  Anaesthetic  Revelation  and  the  Gist  of 
Philosophy,  Amsterdam,  N.  Y.,  1874,  pp.  35,  36.  Mr.  Blood  has  made 
several  attempts  to  adumbrate  the  anaesthetic  revelation,  in  pamphlets  of 
rare  literary  distinction,  privately  printed  and  distributed  by  himself  at 
Amsterdam.  Xenos  Clark,  a philosopher,  who  died  young  at  Amherst  in 
the  ’80’s,  much  lamented  by  those  who  knew  him,  was  also  impressed  by 
the  revelation.  “ In  the  first  place,”  he  once  wrote  to  me,  “ Mr.  Blood  and 
I agree  that  the  revelation  is,  if  anything,  non-emotional.  It  is  utterly  flat. 
It  is,  as  Mr.  Blood  says,  ‘ the  one  sole  and  sufficient  insight  why,  or  not 
why,  but  how,  the  present  is  pushed  on  by  the  past,  and  sucked  forward  by 
the  vacuity  of  the  future.  Its  inevitableness  defeats  all  attempts  at  stop- 
ping or  accounting  for  it.  It  is  all  precedence  and  presupposition,  and 
questioning  is  in  regard  to  it  forever  too  late.  It  is  an  initiation  of  the  past.' 
The  real  secret  would  be  the  formula  by  which  the  ‘ now  ’ keeps  exfoliating 
out  of  itself,  yet  never  escapes.  What  is  it,  indeed,  that  keeps  existence 
exfoliating  ? The  formal  being  of  anything,  the  logical  definition  of  it,  is 
static.  For  mere  logic  every  question  contains  its  own  answer  — we  simply 
fill  the  hole  with  the  dirt  we  dug  out.  Why  are  twice  two  four  ? Because, 
in  fact,  four  is  twice  two.  Thus  logic  finds  in  life  no  propulsion,  only  a mo* 
pientum.  It  goes  because  it  is  a-going.  But  the  revelation  adds  : it  goes 


390  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


This  has  the  genuine  religious  mystic  ring ! I just 
now  quoted  J.  A.  Symonds.  He  also  records  a mystical 
experience  with  chloroform,  as  follows  : — 

because  it  is  aud  was  a-going.  You  walk,  as  it  were,  round  yourself  in  the 
revelation.  Ordinary  philosophy  is  like  a hound  hunting  his  own  trail. 
The  more  he  hunts  the  farther  he  has  to  go,  and  his  nose  never  catches  up 
with  his  heels,  because  it  is  forever  ahead  of  them.  So  the  present  is  al- 
ready a foregone  conclusion,  and  I am  ever  too  late  to  understand  it.  But 
at  the  moment  of  recovery  from  ansesthesis,  just  then,  before  starting  on  life, 
I catch,  so  to  speak,  a glimpse  of  my  heels,  a glimpse  of  the  eternal  pro- 
cess just  in  the  act  of  starting.  The  truth  is  that  we  travel  on  a journey 
that  was  accomplished  before  we  set  out  ; and  the  real  end  of  philosophy  ia 
accomplished,  not  when  we  arrive  at,  but  when  we  remain  in,  our  destinav 
tion  (being  already  there),  — which  may  occur  vicariously  in  this  life  whev 
we  cease  our  intellectual  questioning.  That  is  why  there  is  a smile  upou 
the  face  of  the  revelation,  as  we  view  it.  It  tells  us  that  we  are  forevet 
half  a second  too  late  — that’s  all.  ‘You  could  kiss  your  own  lips,  and 
have  all  the  fun  to  yourself,’  it  says,  if  you  only  knew  the  trick.  It  would 
be  perfectly  easy  if  they  would  just  stay  there  till  you  got  round  to  them, 
Why  don’t  you  manage  it  somehow  ? ” 

Dialectically  minded  readers  of  this  farrago  will  at  least  recognize  the 
region  of  thought  of  which  Mr.  Clark  writes,  as  familiar.  In  his  latest 
pamphlet,  ‘ Tennyson’s  Trances  and  the  Anaesthetic  Revelation,’  Mr.  Blood 
describes  its  value  for  life  as  follows  : — 

“ The  Anaesthetic  Revelation  is  the  Initiation  of  Man  into  the  Immemo- 
rial Mystery  of  the  Open  Secret  of  Being,  revealed  as  the  Inevitable  Vor- 
tex of  Continuity.  Inevitable  is  the  word.  Its  motive  is  inherent  — it 
what  has  to  be.  It  is  not  for  any  love  or  hate,  nor  for  joy  nor  sorrow,  nor 
good  nor  ill.  End,  beginning,  or  purpose,  it  knows  not  of. 

“ It  affords  no  particular  of  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of  things  ; but  :4 
fills  appreciation  of  the  historical  and  the  sacred  with  a secular  and  inti- 
mately personal  illumination  of  the  nature  and  motive  of  existence,  which 
then  seems  reminiscent  — as  if  it  should  have  appeared,  or  shall  yet  appear, 
to  every  participant  thereof. 

“ Although  it  is  at  first  startling  in  its  solemnity,  it  becomes  direotiy 
such  a matter  of  course  — so  old-fashioned,  and  so  akin  to  proverbs,  that  it 
inspires  exultation  rather  than  fear,  and  a sense  of  safety,  as  identified  with 
the  aboriginal  and  the  universal.  But  no  words  may  express  the  imposing 
certainty  of  the  patient  that  he  is  realizing  the  primordial,  Adamic  surprise 
of  Life. 

“ Repetition  of  the  experience  finds  it  ever  the  same,  and  as  if  it  could 
not  possibly  be  otherwise.  The  subject  resumes  his  normal  consciousness 
only  to  partially  and  fitfully  remember  its  occurrence,  and  to  try  to  formu- 
late its  baffling  import,  — with  only  this  consolatory  afterthought : that  he 


MYSTICISM 


391 


“ After  the  choking  and  stifling  had  passed  away,  I seemed 
at  first  in  a state  of  utter  blankness ; then  came  flashes  of 
intense  light,  alternating  with  blackness,  and  with  a keen  vision 
of  what  was  going  on  in  the  room  around  me,  but  no  sensation 
of  touch.  I thought  that  I was  near  death ; when,  suddenly, 
my  soul  became  aware  of  God,  who  was  manifestly  dealing  with 
me,  handling  me,  so  to  speak,  in  an  intense  personal  present 
reality.  I felt  him  streaming  in  like  light  upon  me.  ...  I 
cannot  describe  the  ecstasy  I felt.  Then,  as  I gradually  awoke 
from  the  influence  of  the  anaesthetics,  the  old  sense  of  my  rela- 
tion to  the  world  began  to  return,  the  new  sense  of  my  relation 
to  God  began  to  fade.  I suddenly  leapt  to  my  feet  on  the 
chair  where  I was  sitting,  and  shrieked  out,  ‘ It  is  too  horrible, 
it  is  too  horrible,  it  is  too  horrible,’  meaning  that  I could  not 
bear  this  disillusionment.  Then  I flung  myself  on  the  ground, 
and  at  last  awoke  covered  with  blood,  calling  to  the  two  sur- 
geons (who  were  frightened),  ‘ Why  did  you  not  kill  me  ? 
Why  would  you  not  let  me  die  ? ’ Only  think  of  it.  To  have 
felt  for  that  long  dateless  ecstasy  of  vision  the  very  God,  in  all 
purity  and  tenderness  and  truth  and  absolute  love,  and  then  to 
find  that  I had  after  all  had  no  revelation,  but  that  I had  been 
tricked  by  the  abnormal  excitement  of  my  brain. 

has  known  the  oldest  truth,  and  that  he  has  done  with  hunsan  theories  as  to 
the  origin,  meaning,  or  destiny  of  the  race.  He  is  beyond  instruction  in 
‘ spiritual  things.’ 

“ The  lesson  is  one  of  central  safety  : the  Kingdom  is  within.  All  days  are 
judgment  days  ; but  there  can  be  no  climacteric  purpose  of  eternity,  nor  any 
scheme  of  the  whole.  The  astronomer  abridges  the  row  of  bewildering 
figures  by  increasing  bis  unit  of  measurement : so  may  we  reduce  the 
distracting  multiplicity  of  things  to  the  unity  for  which  each  of  us  stands. 

“ This  has  been  my  moral  sustenance  since  I have  known  of  it.  In  my 
first  printed  mention  of  it  I declared  : ‘ The  world  is  no  more  the  alien 
terror  that  was  taught  me.  Spurning  the  cloud-grimed  and  still  sultry 
battlements  whence  so  lately  Jehovan  thunders  boomed,  my  gray  gull  lifts 
her  wing  against  the  nightfall,  and  takes  the  dim  leagues  with  a fearless 
eye.’  And  now,  after  twenty-seven  years  of  this  experience,  the  wing  is 
grayer,  but  the  eye  is  fearless  still,  while  I renew  and  doubly  emphasize 
that  declaration.  I know  — as  having  known  — the  meaning  of  Existence  ; 
the  sane  centre  of  the  universe  — at  once  the  wonder  and  the  assurance  of 
the  soul  — for  which  the  speech  of  reason  has  as  yet  no  name  but  the  Anaes* 
tbotic  Revelation.”  — I have  considerably  abridged  the  quotation. 


392  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ Yet,  this  question  remains,  Is  it  possible  that  the  innei 
sense  of  reality  which  succeeded,  when  my  flesh  was  dead  to 
impressions  from  without,  to  the  ordinary  sense  of  physical 
relations,  was  not  a delusion  but  an  actual  experience  ? Is  it 
possible  that  I,  in  that  moment,  felt  what  some  of  the  saints 
have  said  they  always  felt,  the  undemonstrable  but  irrefragable 
certainty  of  God  ? ” ^ 

1 Op.  cit.,  pp.  78-80,  abridged.  I subjoin,  also  abridging  it,  another 
interesting  anaesthetic  revelation  communicated  to  me  in  manuscript  by  a 
friend  in  England.  The  subject,  a gifted  woman,  was  taking  ether  for  a 
surgical  operation. 

“ I wondered  if  I was  in  a prison  being  tortured,  and  why  I remembered 
having  heard  it  said  that  people  ‘ learn  through  suffering,’  and  in  view  of 
what  I was  seeing,  the  inadequacy  of  this  saying  struck  me  so  much  that  I 
said,  aloud,  ‘ to  suffer  is  to  learn.’ 

“ With  that  I became  unconscious  again,  and  my  last  dream  immediately 
preceded  my  real  coming  to.  It  only  lasted  a few  seconds,  and  was  most 
vivid  and  real  to  me,  though  it  may  not  be  clear  in  words. 

“ A great  Being  or  Power  was  traveling  through  the  sky,  his  foot  was  on 
a kind  of  lightning  as  a wheel  is  on  a rail,  it  was  his  pathway.  The  light- 
ning was  made  entirely  of  the  spirits  of  innumerable  people  close  to  one 
another,  and  I was  one  of  them.  He  moved  in  a straight  line,  and  each  part 
of  the  streak  or  flash  came  into  its  short  conscious  existence  only  that  he 
might  travel.  I seemed  to  be  directly  under  the  foot  of  God,  and  I thought 
he  was  grinding  his  own  life  up  out  of  my  pain.  Then  I saw  that  what  he 
had  been  trying  with  all  his  might  to  do  was  to  change  his  course,  to  bend  the 
line  of  lightning  to  which  he  was  tied,  in  the  direction  in  which  he  wanted 
to  go.  I felt  my  flexibility  and  helplessness,  and  knew  that  he  would  suc- 
ceed. He  bended  me,  turning  his  corner  by  means  of  my  hurt,  hurting  me 
more  than  I had  ever  been  hurt  in  my  life,  and  at  the  acutest  point  of  this, 
as  he  passed,  I saw.  I understood  for  a moment  things  that  I have  nov 
forgotten,  things  that  no  one  could  remember  while  retaining  sanity.  The 
angle  was  an  obtuse  angle,  and  I remember  thinking  as  I woke  that  had  he 
made  it  a right  or  acute  angle,  I should  have  both  suffered  and  ‘ seen  ’ still 
more,  and  should  probably  have  died. 

“ He  went  on  and  I came  to.  In  that  moment  the  whole  of  my  life 
passed  before  me,  including  each  little  meaningless  piece  of  distress,  and 
I understood  them.  This  was  what  it  had  all  meant,  this  was  the  piece  of 
work  it  had  all  been  contributing  to  do.  I did  not  see  God’s  purpose,  I 
only  saw  his  intentness  and  his  entire  relentlessness  towards  his  means. 
He  thought  no  more  of  me  than  a man  thinks  of  hurting  a cork  when  he  L 
opening  wine,  or  hurting  a cartridge  when  he  is  firing.  And  yet,  on  wak, 
ing,  my  first  feeling  was,  and  it  came  with  tears,  ‘ Domine  non  sum  digna,‘ 
for  I had  been  lifted  into  a position  for  which  1 was  too  small.  1 realized 


MYSTICISM 


393 


With  this  we  make  connection  with  religious  mysti* 
cism  pure  and  simple.  Symonds’s  question  takes  us  back 
to  those  examples  which  you  will  remember  my  quoting 
in  the  lecture  on  the  Reality  o£  the  Unseen,  of  sudden 
realization  of  the  immediate  presence  of  God.  The 
phenomenon  in  one  shape  or  another  is  not  uncommon. 

“ I know,”  writes  Mr.  Trine,  “ an  officer  on  our  police  force 
who  has  told  me  that  many  times  when  off  duty,  and  on  his 
way  home  in  the  evening,  there  comes  to  him  such  a vivid  and 
vital  realization  of  his  oneness  with  this  Infinite  Power,  and 
this  Spirit  of  Infinite  Peace  so  takes  hold  of  and  so  fills  him, 

that  in  that  half  hour  under  ether  I had  served  God  more  distinctly  and 
purely  than  I had  ever  done  in  my  life  before,  or  than  I am  capable  of 
desiring  to  do.  I was  the  means  of  his  achieving  and  revealing  something, 
I know  not  what  or  to  whom,  and  that,  to  the  exact  extent  of  my  capacity 
for  suffering. 

“ While  regaining  consciousness,  I wondered  why,  since  I had  gone  so 
deep,  I had  seen  nothing  of  what  the  saints  call  the  love  of  God,  nothing 
but  his  relentlessness.  And  then  I heard  an  answer,  which  I could  only 
just  catch,  saying,  ‘ Klnowledge  and  Love  are  One,  and  the  measure  is  suf- 
fering ’ — I give  the  words  as  they  came  to  me.  With  that  I came  finally 
to  (into  what  seemed  a dream  world  compared  with  the  reality  of  what  I 
was  leaving),  and  I saw  that  what  would  be  called  the  ‘ cause  ’ of  my  expe- 
rience was  a slight  operation  under  insufficient  ether,  in  a bed  pushed  up 
against  a window,  a common  city  window  in  a common  city  street.  If  I 
had  to  formulate  a few  of  the  things  I then  caught  a glimpse  of,  they  would 
run  somewhat  as  follows  : — 

“ The  eternal  necessity  of  suffering  and  its  eternal  vicariousness.  Th'' 
veiled  and  incommunicable  nature  of  the  worst  sufferings  ; — the  passivi 
of  genius,  how  it  is  essentially  instrumental  and  defenseless,  moved,  not 
moving,  it  must  do  what  it  does  ; — the  impossibility  of  discovery  without 
its  price  ; — finally,  the  excess  of  what  the  suffering  ‘ seer  ’ or  genius  pays 
over  what  his  generation  gains.  (He  seems  like  one  who  sweats  his  life 
out  to  earn  enough  to  save  a district  from  famine,  and  just  as  he  staggers 
back,  dying  and  satisfied,  bringing  a lac  of  rupees  to  buy  grain  with,  God 
lifts  the  lac  away,  dropping  one  rupee,  and  says,  ‘ That  you  may  give  them. 
That  you  have  earned  for  them.  The  rest  is  for  ME.’)  I perceived  also  in 
a way  never  to  be  forgotten,  the  excess  of  what  we  see  over  what  we  can 
demonstrate. 

“And  so  on  ! — these  things  may  seem  to  you  delusions,  or  truisms  ; but 
for  me  they  are  dark  truths,  and  the  power  to  put  them  into  even  such 
words  as  these  has  been  given  me  by  an  ether  dream.” 


394  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


that  it  seems  as  if  his  feet  could  hardly  keep  to  the  pavement, 
so  buoyant  and  so  exhilarated  does  he  become  by  reason  of 
this  inflowing  tide.”  ^ 

Certain  aspects  of  nature  seem  to  hav^  a peculiar 
power  of  awakening  such  mystical  moods.^  Most  of  the 
striking  cases  which  I have  collected  have  occurred  out 
of  doors.  Literature  has  commemorated  this  fact  in  many 
passages  of  great  beauty  — this  extract,  for  example, 
from  Amiel’s  Journal  Intime  : — 

“ Shall  I ever  again  have  any  of  those  prodigious  reveries 
which  sometimes  came  to  me  in  former  days  ? One  day,  in 

^ la  Tune  with  the  Infinite,  p.  137. 

^ The  larger  God  may  then  swallow  up  the  smaller  one.  I take  this 
from  Starbuck’s  manuscript  collection  ; — 

“I  never  lost  the  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  God  until  I stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  Horseshoe  Falls,  Niagara.  Then  I lost  him  in  the  immen- 
sity of  what  I saw.  I also  lost  myself,  feeling  that  I was  an  atom  too  small 
for  the  notice  of  Almighty  God.” 

I subjoin  another  similar  case  from  Starbuck’s  collection  : — 

“ In  that  time  the  consciousness  of  God’s  nearness  came  to  me  some- 
times. I say  God,  to  describe  what  is  indescribable.  A presence,  I might  say, 
yet  that  is  too  suggestive  of  personality,  and  the  moments  of  which  I speak 
did  not  hold  the  consciousness  of  a personality,  but  something  in  myself 
made  me  feel  myself  a part  of  something  bigger  than  I,  that  was  control- 
ling. I felt  myself  one  with  the  grass,  the  trees,  birds,  insects,  everything  in 
Nature.  I exulted  in  the  mere  fact  of  existence,  of  being  a part  of  it  all  — 
the  drizzling  rain,  the  shadows  of  the  clouds,  the  tree-trunks,  and  so  on. 
In  the  years  following,  such  moments  continued  to  come,  but  I wanted  them 
constantly.  I knew  so  well  the  satisfaction  of  losing  self  in  a perception  of 
supreme  power  and  love,  that  I was  unhappy  because  that  perception  was 
not  constant.”  The  cases  quoted  in  my  third  lecture,  pp.  66,  67,  70,  are 
still  better  ones  of  this  type.  In  her  essay.  The  Loss  of  Personality,  in  The 
Atlantic  Monthly  (vol.  Ixxxv.  p.  195),  Miss  Ethel  D.  Puffer  explains  that  the 
vanishing  of  the  sense  of  self,  and  the  feeling  of  immediate  unity  with 
the  object,  is  due  to  the  disappearance,  in  these  rapturous  experiences,  of 
the  motor  adjustments  which  habitually  intermediate  between  the  constant 
background  of  consciousness  (which  is  the  Self)  and  the  object  in  the  fore- 
ground, whatever  it  may  be.  I must  refer  the  reader  to  the  highly  instruc- 
tive article,  which  seems  to  me  to  throw  light  upon  the  psychological  con- 
ditions, though  it  fails  to  account  for  the  rapture  or  the  revelation-value  of 
the  experience  in  the  Subject’s  eyes. 


MYSTICISM 


395 


youth,  at  sunrise,  sitting  in  the  ruins  of  the  castle  of  Faucigny  ; 
and  again  in  the  mountains,  under  the  noonday  sun,  above 
Lavey,  lying  at  the  foot  of  a tree  and  visited  by  three  butter- 
flies ; once  more  at  night  upon  the  shingly  shore  of  the  Northern 
Ocean,  my  back  upon  the  sand  and  my  vision  ranging  through 
the  milky  way  ; — such  grand  and  spacious,  immortal,  cosmo- 
gonic reveries,  when  one  reaches  to  the  stars,  when  one  owns 
the  infinite  ! Moments  divine,  ecstatic  hours  ; in  which  our 
thought  flies  from  world  to  world,  pierces  the  great  enigma, 
breathes  with  a respiration  broad,  tranquil,  and  deep  as  the 
respiration  of  the  ocean,  serene  and  limitless  as  the  blue  firma- 
ment ; . . . instants  of  irresistible  intuition  in  which  one  feels 
one’s  self  great  as  the  universe,  and  calm  as  a god.  . . . What 
hours,  what  memories ! The  vestiges  they  leave  behind  are 
enough  to  fill  us  with  belief  and  enthusiasm,  as  if  they  were 
visits  of  the  Holy  Ghost.”  ^ 

Here  is  a similar  record  from  the  memoirs  of  that 
interesting  German  idealist,  Malwida  von  Meysenbug : — 

“ I was  alone  upon  the  seashore  as  all  these  thoughts  flowed 
over  me,  liberating  and  reconciling ; and  now  again,  as  once 
before  in  distant  days  in  the  Alps  of  Dauphine,  I was  impelled 
to  kneel  down,  this  time  before  the  illimitable  ocean,  symbol  of 
the  Infinite.  I felt  that  I prayed  as  I had  never  prayed  before, 
and  knew  now  what  prayer  really  is : to  return  from  the  soli- 
tude of  individuation  into  the  consciousness  of  unity  with  all 
that  is,  to  kneel  down  as  one  that  passes  away,  and  to  rise  up  as 
one  imperishable.  Earth,  heaven,  and  sea  resounded  as  in  one 
vast  world-encircling  harmony.  It  was  as  if  the  chorus  of  all 
the  great  who  had  ever  lived  were  about  me.  I felt  myself 
one  with  them,  and  it  appeared  as  if  I heard  their  greeting : 
‘ Thou  too  belongest  to  the  company  of  those  who  overcome.’  ” ^ 

The  well-known  passage  from  Walt  Whitman  is  a 
classical  expression  of  this  sporadic  type  of  mystical  ex- 
perience. 

^ Op.  cit.,  i.  43-44. 

* Memoiren  einer  Idealistin,  5te  Auflage,  1900,  iii.  166.  For  years  she 
had  been  unable  to  pray,  owing  to  materialistic  belief. 


396  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ I believe  in  you,  my  Soul  . . . 

Loaf  with  me  on  the  grass,  loose  the  stop  from  your  throat  ; . . . 

Only  the  lull  I like,  the  hum  of  your  valved  voice. 

I mind  how  once  we  lay,  such  a transparent  summer  morning. 

Swiftly  arose  and  spread  around  me  the  peace  and  knowledge  that  pass 
all  the  argument  of  the  earth. 

And  I know  that  the  hand  of  God  is  the  promise  of  my  own. 

And  I know  that  the  spirit  of  God  is  the  brother  of  my  own. 

And  that  all  the  men  ever  born  are  also  my  brothers  and  the  women  my 
sisters  and  lovers. 

And  that  a kelson  of  the  creation  is  love.”  ^ 

1 could  easily  give  more  instances,  but  one  will  suffice. 
I take  it  from  the  Autobiography  of  J.  Trevor.^ 

“ One  brilliant  Sunday  morning,  my  wife  and  boys  went  to 
the  Unitarian  Cbapel  in  Macclesfield.  I felt  it  impossible  to 
accompany  them  — as  though  to  leave  the  sunshine  on  the  hills, 
and  go  down  there  to  the  chapel,  would  be  for  the  time  an  act 
of  spiritual  suicide.  And  I felt  such  need  for  new  inspiration 
and  expansion  in  my  life.  So,  very  reluctantly  and  sadly,  I left 
my  wife  and  boys  to  go  down  into  the  town,  while  I went 
further  up  into  the  hills  with  my  stick  and  my  dog.  In  the 
loveliness  of  the  morning,  and  the  beauty  of  the  hills  and  val- 
leys, I soon  lost  my  sense  of  sadness  and  regret.  For  nearly 
an  hour  I walked  along  the  road  to  the  ‘ Cat  and  Fiddle,’  and 
then  returned.  On  the  way  back,  suddenly,  without  warning,  I 
felt  that  I was  in  Heaven  — an  inward  state  of  peace  and  joy 

^ Whitman  in  another  place  expresses  in  a quieter  way  what  was  prob- 
ably with  him  a chronic  mystical  perception  : “ There  is,”  he  writes,  “ apart 
from  mere  intellect,  in  the  make-up  of  every  superior  human  identity,  a 
wondrous  something  that  realizes  without  argument,  frequently  without 
what  is  called  education  (though  I think  it  the  goal  and  apex  of  all  educa- 
tion deserving  the  name),  an  intuition  of  the  absolute  balance,  in  time 
and  space,  of  the  whole  of  this  multifariousness,  this  revel  of  fools,  and 
incredible  make-believe  and  general  unsettledness,  we  call  the  world  ; a soul- 
sight  of  that  divine  clue  and  unseen  thread  which  holds  the  whole  congeries 
of  things,  all  history  and  time,  and  all  events,  however  trivial,  however  mo- 
mentous, like  a leashed  dog  in  the  hand  of  the  hunter.  [Of]  such  soul-sight 
and  root-centre  for  the  mind  mere  optimism  explains  only  the  surface.” 
Whitman  charges  it  against  Carlyle  that  he  lacked  this  perception.  Speei- 
men  Days  and  Collect,  Philadelphia,  1882,  p.  174. 

2 My  Quest  for  God,  London,  1897,  pp.  268,  269,  abridged. 


MYSTICISM 


397 


and  assurance  indescribably  intense,  accompanied  with  a sense 
of  being  bathed  in  a warm  glow  of  light,  as  though  the  external 
condition  had  brought  about  the  internal  effect  — a feeling  of 
having  passed  beyond  the  body,  though  the  scene  around  me 
stood  out  more  clearly  and  as  if  nearer  to  me  than  before,  by 
reason  of  the  illumination  in  the  midst  of  which  I seemed  to  be 
placed.  This  deep  emotion  lasted,  though  with  decreasing 
strength,  until  I reached  home,  and  for  some  time  after,  only 
gradually  passing  away.” 

The  writer  adds  that  having  had  further  experiences  of 
a similar  sort,  he  now  knows  them  well. 

“ The  spiritual  life,”  he  writes,  “ justifies  itself  to  those  who 
live  it ; but  what  can  we  say  to  those  who  do  not  understand  ? 
This,  at  least,  we  can  say,  that  it  is  a life  whose  experiences  are 
proved  real  to  their  possessor,  because  they  remain  with  him 
when  brought  closest  into  contact  with  the  objective  realities  of 
life.  Dreams  cannot  stand  this  test.  We  wake  from  them  to 
find  that  they  are  but  dreams.  Wanderings  of  an  overwrought 
brain  do  not  stand  this  test.  These  highest  experiences  that  I 
have  had  of  God’s  presence  have  been  rare  and  brief  — flashes 
of  consciousness  which  have  compelled  me  to  exclaim  with  sur- 
prise — God  is  here  ! — or  conditions  of  exaltation  and  insight, 
less  intense,  and  only  gradually  passing  away.  I have  severely 
questioned  the  worth  of  these  moments.  To  no  soul  have  I 
named  them,  lest  I should  be  building  my  life  and  work  on 
mere  phantasies  of  the  brain.  But  I find  that,  after  every 
questioning  and  test,  they  stand  out  to-day  as  the  most  real 
experiences  of  my  life,  and  experiences  which  have  explained 
and  justified  and  unified  all  past  experiences  and  all  past 
growth.  Indeed,  their  reality  and  their  far-reaching  signifi- 
cance are  ever  becoming  more  clear  and  evident.  When  they 
came,  I was  living  the  fullest,  strongest,  sanest,  deepest  life. 
I was  not  seeking  them.  What  I was  seeking,  with  resolute 
determination,  was  to  live  more  intensely  my  own  life,  as 
against  what  I knew  would  be  the  adverse  judgment  of  the 
world.  It  was  in  the  most  real  seasons  that  the  Real  Presence 


398  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


came,  and  I was  aware  that  I was  immersed  in  the  infinite 
ocean  of  God.”  ^ 

Even  the  least  mystical  of  you  must  by  this  time  be 
convinced  of  the  existence  of  mystical  moments  as  states 
of  consciousness  of  an  entirely  specific  quality,  and  of  the 
deep  impression  which  they  make  on  those  who  have 
them.  A Canadian  psychiatrist,  Dr.  R«  M.  Bucke,  gives 
to  the  more  distinctly  characterized  of  these  phenomena 
the  name  of  cosmic  consciousness.  “ Cosmic  conscious- 
ness in  its  more  striking  instances  is  not,”  Dr.  Bucke 
says,  “ simply  an  expansion  or  extension  of  the  self-con- 
scious mind  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  but  the  su- 
peraddition of  a function  as  distinct  from  any  possessed 
by  the  average  man  as  se^-consciousness  is  distinct  from 
any  function  possessed  by  one  of  the  higher  animals.” 

“ The  prime  characteristic  of  cosmic  consciousness  is  a con- 
sciousness of  the  cosmos,  that  is,  of  the  life  and  order  of  the 
universe.  Along  with  the  consciousness  of  the  cosmos  there 
occurs  an  intellectual  enlightenment  which  alone  would  place 
the  individual  on  a new  plane  of  existence  — would  make  him 
almost  a member  of  a new  species.  To  this  is  added  a state  of 
moral  exaltation,  an  indescribable  feeling  of  elevation,  elation, 
and  joyousness,  and  a quickening  of  the  moral  sense,  which  is 
fully  as  striking,  and  more  important  than  is  the  enhanced 
intellectual  power.  With  these  come  what  may  be  called  a 
sense  of  immortality,  a consciousness  of  eternal  life,  not  a con 
viction  that  he  shall  have  this,  but  the  consciousness  that  he 
has  it  already.”  ^ 

It  was  Dr.  Bucke’s  own  experience  of  a typical  onset 
of  cosmic  consciousness  in  his  own  person  which  led  him 
to  investigate  it  in  others.  He  has  printed  his  conclu- 
sions in  a highly  interesting  volume,  from  which  I take 
the  following  account  of  what  occurred  to  him  : — 

* Op.  cit.,  pp.  256,  267,  abridged. 

® Cosmic  Consciousness  : a study  in  the  evolution  of  the  human  Mind 
Philadelphia,  1901,  p.  2. 


MYSTICISM 


399 


“ I had  spent  the  evening  in  a great  city,  with  two  friends 
reading  and  discussing  poetry  and  philosophy.  We  parted  at 
midnight.  I had  a long  drive  in  a hansom  to  my  lodging. 
My  mind,  deeply  under  the  influence  of  the  ideas,  images,  and 
emotions  called  up  by  the  reading  and  talk,  was  calm  and 
peaceful.  I was  in  a state  of  quiet,  almost  passive  enjoyment, 
not  actually  thinking,  but  letting  ideas,  images,  and  emotions 
flow  of  themselves,  as  it  were,  through  my  mind.  All  at  once, 
without  warning  of  any  kind,  I found  myself  wrapped  in  a 
flame-colored  cloud.  For  an  instant  I thought  of  fire,  an  im- 
mense conflagration  somewhere  close  by  in  that  great  city ; the 
next,  I knew  that  the  fire  was  within  myself.  Directly  after- 
ward there  came  upon  me  a sense  of  exultation,  of  immense 
joyousness  accompanied  or  immediately  followed  by  an  intellec- 
tual illumination  impossible  to  describe.  Among  other  things, 
I did  not  merely  come  to  believe,  but  I saw  that  the  universe 
is  not  composed  of  dead  matter,  but  is,  on  the  contrary,  a living 
Presence ; I became  conscious  in  myself  of  eternal  life.  It  was 
not  a conviction  that  I would  have  eternal  life,  but  a conscious- 
ness that  I possessed  eternal  life  then  ; I saw  that  all  men  are 
immortal ; that  the  cosmic  order  is  such  that  without  any  per- 
adventure  all  things  work  together  for  the  good  of  each  and 
all;  that  the  foundation  principle  of  the  world,  of  all  the 
worlds,  is  what  we  call  love,  and  that  the  happiness  of  each  and 
all  is  in  the  long  run  absolutely  certain.  The  vision  lasted  a 
few  seconds  and  was  gone ; but  the  memory  of  it  and  the  sense 
of  the  reality  of  what  it  taught  has  remained  during  the  quar- 
ter of  a century  which  has  since  elapsed.  I knew  that  what 
the  vision  showed  was  true.  I had  attained  to  a point  of  view 
from  which  I saw  that  it  must  be  true.  That  view,  that  con- 
viction, I may  say  that  consciousness,  has  never,  even  during 
periods  of  the  deepest  depression,  been  lost.”  ^ 

We  have  now  seen  enough  of  this  cosmic  or  mystic 
consciousness,  as  it  comes  sporadically.  We  must  next 

1 Loc.  cit.,  pp.  7,  8.  My  quotation  follows  the  privately  printed  pam- 
phlet which  preceded  Dr.  Bucke’s  larger  work,  and  differs  verbally  a little 
from  the  text  of  the  latter. 


400  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


pass  to  its  methodical  cultivation  as  an  element  of  the 
religious  life.  Hindus,  Buddhists,  Mohammedans,  and 
Christians  all  have  cultivated  it  methodically. 

In  India,  training  in  mystical  insight  has  been  known 
from  time  immemorial  under  the  name  of  yoga.  Yoga 
means  the  experimental  union  of  the  individual  with  the 
divine.  It  is  based  on  persevering  exercise ; and  the 
diet,  posture,  breathing,  intellectual  concentration,  and 
moral  discipline  vary  slightly  in  the  different  systems 
which  teach  it.  The  yogi,  or  disciple,  who  has  by  these 
means  overcome  the  obscurations  of  his  lower  nature 
sufficiently,  enters  into  the  condition  termed  samadhi, 
“ and  comes  face  to  face  with  facts  which  no  instinct  or 
reason  can  ever  know.”  He  learns  — 

“ That  the  mind  itself  has  a higher  state  of  existence,  beyond 
reason,  a superconscious  state,  and  that  when  the  mind  gets  to 
that  higher  state,  then  this  knowledge  beyond  reasoning  comes. 
. . . All  the  different  steps  in  yoga  are  intended  to  bring  us 
scientifically  to  the  superconscious  state  or  samadhi.  . . . Just 
as  unconscious  work  is  beneath  consciousness,  so  there  is  another 
work  which  is  above  consciousness,  and  which,  also,  is  not  ac- 
companied with  the  feeling  of  egoism.  . . . There  is  no  feeling 
of  /,  and  yet  the  mind  works,  desireless,  free  from  restlessness, 
objectless,  bodiless.  Then  the  Truth  shines  in  its  full  efful- 
gence, and  we  know  ourselves  — for  Samadhi  lies  potential  in 
us  all  — for  what  we  truly  are,  free,  immortal,  omnipotent, 
loosed  from  the  finite,  and  its  contrasts  of  good  and  evil  alto- 
gether, and  identical  with  the  Atman  or  Universal  Soul.”  ^ 

The  Vedantists  say  that  one  may  stumble  into  super- 
consciousness  sporadically,  without  the  previous  disci- 
pline, but  it  is  then  impure.  Their  test  of  its  purity,  like 

^ My  quotations  are  from  Vivekananda,  Raja  Yoga,  London,  1896.  The 
completest  source  of  information  on  Yoga  is  the  work  translated  by  Vi- 
HARi  Lala  Mitra  : Yoga  Yasishta  Maha  Ramayana,  4 vols..  Calcuttsw 
1891-99. 


MYSTICISM 


401 


our  test  of  religion’s  value,  is  empirical : its  fruits  must 
be  good  for  life.  When  a man  comes  out  of  Samadhi, 
they  assure  us  that  he  remams  “ enlightened,  a sage,  a 
prophet,  a saint,  his  whole  character  changed,  his  life 
changed,  illumined.”  ^ 

The  Buddhists  use  the  word  ‘ samadhi  ’ as  well  as  the 
Hindus;  hut  ‘ dhyana  ’ is  their  special  word  for  higher 
states  of  contemplation.  There  seem  to  be  four  stages 
recognized  in  dhyana.  The  first  stage  comes  through 
concentration  of  the  mind  upon  one  point.  It  excludes 
desire,  but  not  discernment  or  judgment : it  is  still  intel* 
lectual.  In  the  second  stage  the  intellectual  functions 
drop  off,  and  the  satisfied  sense  of  unity  remains.  In 
the  third  stage  the  satisfaction  departs,  and  indifference 
hegins,  along  with  memory  and  self-consciousness.  In 
the  fourth  stage  the  indifference,  memory,  and  self-con- 
sciousness are  perfected.  [ J ust  what  ‘ memory  ’ and 

‘ self-consciousness  ’ mean  in  this  connection  is  doubtful. 
They  cannot  be  the  faculties  familiar  to  us  in  the  lower 
life.]  Higher  stages  still  of  contemplation  are  men- 
tioned — a region  where  there  exists  nothing,  and  where 
the  meditator  says : “ There  exists  absolutely  nothing,” 
and  stops.  Then  he  reaches  another  region  where  he 
says  : “ There  are  neither  ideas  nor  absence  of  ideas,” 
and  stops  again.  Then  another  region  where,  “ having 
reached  the  end  of  both  idea  and  perception,  he  stops 

' A European  witness,  after  carefully  comparing  the  results  of  Toga  with 
those  of  the  hypnotic  or  dreamy  states  artificially  producible  by  us,  says  : “ It 
makes  of  its  true  disciples  good,  healthy,  and  happy  men.  . . . Through 
the  mastery  which  the  yogi  attains  over  his  thoughts  and  his  body,  he 
grows  into  a ‘ character.’  By  the  subjection  of  his  impulses  and  propen- 
sities to  his  will,  and  the  fixing  of  the  latter  upon  the  ideal  of  goodness, 
he  becomes  a ‘ personality  ’ bard  to  influence  by  others,  and  thus  almost 
the  opposite  of  what  we  usually  imagine  a ‘ medium  ’ so-called,  or  ‘ psy- 
chic subject  ’ to  be.”  Karl  Kellner  : Yoga  : Eine  Skizze,  Munehen,  1896^ 


402  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

finally.”  This  would  seem  to  be,  not  yet  Nirvana,  hut 
as  close  an  approach  to  it  as  this  life  affords.^ 

In  the  Mohammedan  world  the  Sufi  sect  and  various 
dervish  bodies  are  the  possessors  of  the  mystical  tradi- 
tion. The  Sufis  have  existed  in  Persia  from  the  earliest 
times,  and  as  their  pantheism  is  so  at  variance  with  the 
hot  and  rigid  monotheism  of  the  Arab  mind,  it  has  been 
suggested  that  Sufism  must  have  been  inoculated  into 
Islam  by  Hindu  influences.  We  Christians  know  little 
of  Sufism,  for  its  secrets  are  disclosed  only  to  those  initi- 
ated. To  give  its  existence  a certain  liveliness  in  your 
minds,  I will  quote  a Moslem  document,  and  pass  away 
from  the  subject. 

Al-Ghazzali,  a Persian  philosopher  and  theologian,  who 
flourished  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  ranks  as  one  of 
the  greatest  doctors  of  the  Moslem  church,  has  left  us  one 
of  the  few  autobiographies  to  be  found  outside  of  Chris- 
tian literature.  Strange  that  a species  of  book  so  abun- 
dant among  ourselves  should  be  so  little  represented  else- 
where— the  absence  of  strictly  personal  confessions  is 
the  chief  difficulty  to  the  purely  literary  student  who 
would  like  to  become  acquainted  with  the  inwardness  of 
religions  other  than  the  Christian. 

M.  Sehmolders  has  translated  a part  of  Al-Ghazzali’s 
autobiography  into  French  : ^ — 

“ The  Science  of  the  Sufis,”  says  the  Moslem  author,  “ aims 
at  detaching  the  heart  from  all  that  is  not  God,  and  at  giving 
to  it  for  sole  occupation  the  meditation  of  the  divine  being. 
Theory  being  more  easy  for  me  than  practice,  I read  [certain 
books]  until  I understood  all  that  can  be  learned  by  study  and 

^ I follow  the  account  in  C.  F.  Koeppen  : Die  Religion  des  Buddha, 
Berlin,  1857,  i.  585  ff. 

® For  a full  account  of  him,  see  D.  B.  Macdonald  : The  Life  of  Al« 
Ghazzali,  in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Oriental  Society,  1899,  vol.  xs. 


MYSTICISM 


403 


hearsay.  Then  1 recognized  that  what  pertains  most  exclu- 
sively to  their  method  is  just  what  no  study  can  grasp,  but  only 
transport,  ecstasy,  and  the  transformation  of  the  soul.  How 
great,  for  example,  is  the  difference  between  knowing  the  defini- 
tions of  health,  of  satiety,  with  their  causes  and  conditions,  and 
being  really  healthy  or  filled.  How  different  to  know  in  what 
drunkenness  consists,  — as  being  a state  occasioned  by  a vapor 
that  rises  from  the  stomach,  — and  being  drunk  effectively. 
Without  doubt,  the  drunken  man  knows  neither  the  definition 
of  drunkenness  nor  what  makes  it  interesting  for  science. 
Being  drunk,  he  knows  nothing  ; whilst  the  physician,  although 
not  drunk,  knows  well  in  what  drunkenness  consists,  and  what 
are  its  predisposing  conditions.  Similarly  there  is  a difference 
between  knowing  the  nature  of  abstinence,  and  being  abstinent 
or  having  one’s  soul  detached  from  the  world.  — Thus  I had 
learned  what  words  could  teach  of  Sufism,  but  what  was  left 
could  be  learned  neither  by  study  nor  through  the  ears,  but 
solely  by  giving  one’s  self  up  to  ecstasy  and  leading  a pious 
life. 

“ Reflecting  on  my  situation,  I found  myself  tied  down  by  a 
multitude  of  bonds  — temptations  on  every  side.  Considering 
my  teaching,  I found  it  was  impure  before  God.  I saw  myself 
struggling  with  all  my  might  to  achieve  glory  and  to  spread  my 
name.  [Here  follows  an  account  of  his  six  months’  hesitation 
to  break  away  from  the  conditions  of  his  life  at  Bagdad,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  fell  ill  with  a paralysis  of  the  tongue.]  Then, 
feeling  my  own  weakness,  and  having  entirely  given  up  my  own 
will,  I repaired  to  God  like  a man  in  distress  who  has  no  more 
resources.  He  answered,  as  he  answers  the  wretch  who  invokes 
him.  My  heart  no  longer  felt  any  difficulty  in  renouncing 
glory,  wealth,  and  my  children.  So  I quitted  Bagdad,  and  re- 
serving from  my  fortune  only  what  was  indispensable  for  my 
subsistence,  I distributed  the  rest.  I went  to  Syria,  where  I 
remained  about  two  years,  with  no  other  occupation  than  living 
in  retreat  and  solitude,  conquering  my  desires,  combating  my 
passions,  training  myself  to  purify  my  soul,  to  make  my  char- 
acter perfect,  to  prepare  my  heart  for  meditating  on  God  — all 
according  to  the  methods  of  the  Sufis,  as  I had  read  of  them. 


404  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ This  retreat  only  increased  my  desire  to  live  in  solitude,  and 
to  complete  the  purification  of  my  heart  and  fit  it  for  medita* 
tion.  But  the  vicissitudes  of  the  times,  the  affairs  of  the  family, 
the  need  of  subsistence,  changed  in  some  respects  my  primitive 
resolve,  and  interfered  with  my  plans  for  a purely  solitary  life. 
I had  never  yet  found  myself  completely  in  ecstasy,  save  in  a 
few  single  hours  ; nevertheless,  I kept  the  hope  of  attaining 
this  state.  Every  time  that  the  accidents  led  me  astray,  I 
sought  to  return  ; and  in  this  situation  I spent  ten  years.  Dur- 
ing this  solitary  state  things  were  revealed  to  me  which  it  is 
impossible  either  to  describe  or  to  point  out.  I recognized  for 
certain  that  the  Sufis  are  assuredly  walking  in  the  path  of  God. 
Both  in  their  acts  and  in  their  inaction,  whether  internal  or 
external,  they  are  illumined  by  the  light  which  proceeds  from 
the  prophetic  source.  The  first  condition  for  a Sufi  is  to  purge 
his  heart  entirely  of  all  that  is  not  God.  The  next  key  of  the 
contemplative  life  consists  in  the  humble  prayers  which  escape 
from  the  fervent  soul,  and  in  the  meditations  on  God  in  which 
the  heart  is  swallowed  up  entirely.  But  in  reality  this  is  only 
the  beginning  of  the  Sufi  life,  the  end  of  Sufism  being  total 
absorption  in  God.  The  intuitions  and  all  that  precede  are,  so 
to  speak,  only  the  threshold  for  those  who  enter.  From  the 
beginning,  revelations  take  place  in  so  flagrant  a shape  thatj 
the  Sufis  see  before  them,  whilst  wide  awake,  the  angels  and 
the  souls  of  the  prophets.  They  hear  their  voices  and  obtain 
their  favors.  Then  the  transport  rises  from  the  perception  of 
forms  and  figures  to  a degree  which  escapes  all  expression,  and 
which  no  man  may  seek  to  give  an  account  of  without  his  words 
involving  sin. 

“Whoever  has  had  no  experience  of  the  transport  knows  of 
the  true  nature  of  prophetism  nothing  but  the  name.  He  may 
meanwhile  be  sure  of  its  existence,  both  by  experience  and  by 
what  he  hears  the  Sufis  say.  As  there  are  men  endowed  only 
with  the  sensitive  faculty  who  reject  what  is  offered  them  in  the 
way  of  objects  of  the  pure  understanding,  so  there  are  intellec- 
tual men  who  reject  and  avoid  the  things  perceived  by  the  pro- 
phetic faculty.  A blind  man  can  understand  nothing  of  colors 
save  what  he  has  learned  by  narration  and  hearsay.  Yet  God 


MYSTICISM 


405 


I has  brought  prophetism  near  to  men  in  giving  them  all  a state 
analogous  to  it  in  its  principal  characters.  This  state  is  sleep. 
If  you  were  to  tell  a man  who  was  himself  without  experience 
of  such  a phenomenon  that  there  are  people  who  at  times  swoon 
away  so  as  to  resemble  dead  men,  and  vfho  [in  dreams]  yet 
perceive  things  that  are  hidden,  he  would  deny  it  [and  give  his 
reasons].  Nevertheless,  his  arguments  would  be  refuted  by 
actual  experience.  Wherefore,  just  as  the  understanding  is  a 
stage  of  human  life  in  which  an  eye  opens  to  discern  various 
intellectual  objects  uncomprehended  by  sensation ; just  so  in 
the  prophetic  the  sight  is  illumined  by  a light  which  uncovers 
hidden  things  and  objects  which  the  intellect  fails  to  reach. 
The  chief  properties  of  prophetism  are  perceptible  only  dur- 
ing the  transport,  by  those  who  embrace  the  Sufi  life.  The 
prophet  is  endowed  with  qualities  to  which  you  possess  nothing 
analogous,  and  which  consequently  you  cannot  possibly  under- 
! stand.  How  should  you  know  their  true  nature,  since  one 
I knows  only  what  one  can  comprehend  ? But  the  transport 
which  one  attains  by  the  method  of  the  Sufis  is  like  an  imme- 
i diate  perception,  as  if  one  touched  the  objects  with  one’s 
: hand.”  1 

This  incommunicahleness  of  the  transport  is  the  keyi- 
note  of  all  mysticism.  Mystical  truth  exists  for  the  indi- 
i vidual  who  has  the  transport,  but  for  no  one  else.  In 
i this,  as  I have  said,  it  resembles  the  knowledge  given  to 
; us  in  sensations  more  than  that  given  by  conceptual 
thought.  Thought,  with  its  remoteness  and  abstractness, 
has  often  enough  in  the  history  of  philosophy  been  con- 
; trusted  unfavorably  with  sensation.  It  is  a commonplace 
\ of  metaphysics  that  God’s  knowledge  cannot  be  discur- 
sive but  must  be  intuitive,  that  is,  must  be  constructed 
more  after  the  pattern  of  what  in  ourselves  is  called 
immediate  feeling,  than  after  that  of  proposition  and 
judgment.  But  our  immediate  feelings  have  no  content 

^ A.  ScHMOLDERS  : Essai  sur  les  deoles  philosophiques  chez  les  Arabe^ 
i Paris,  1842,  pp.  54-68,  abridged. 


i06  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


but  what  the  five  senses  supply ; and  we  have  seen  and 
shall  see  again  that  mystics  may  emphatically  deny  that 
the  senses  play  any  part  in  the  very  highest  type  of 
knowledge  which  their  transports  yield. 

In  the  Christian  church  there  have  always  been  mys 
tics.  Although  many  of  them  have  been  viewed  with 
suspicion,  some  have  gained  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
authorities.  The  experiences  of  these  have  been  treated 
as  precedents,  and  a codified  system  of  mystical  theology 
has  been  based  upon  them,  in  which  everything  legiti- 
mate finds  its  place.^  The  basis  of  the  system  is  ‘ ori- 
son ’ or  meditation,  the  methodical  elevation  of  the  soul 
towards  God.  Through  the  practice  of  orison  the  higher 
levels  of  mystical  experience  may  be  attained.  It  is  odd 
that  Protestantism,  especially  evangelical  Protestantism, 
should  seemingly  have  abandoned  everything  methodical 
in  this  line.  Apart  from  what  prayer  may  lead  to,  Pro- 
testant mystical  experience  appears  to  have  been  almost 
exclusively  sporadic.  It  has  been  left  to  our  mind-curers 
to  reintroduce  methodical  meditation  into  our  religious 
life. 

The  first  thing  to  be  aimed  at  in  orison  is  the  mind’s 
detachment  from  outer  sensations,  for  these  interfere  with 
its  concentration  upon  ideal  things.  Such  manuals  as 
Saint  Ignatius’s  Spiritual  Exercises  recommend  the  dis* 
ciple  to  expel  sensation  by  a graduated  series  of  efforts 
to  imagine  holy  scenes.  The  acme  of  this  kind  of  disci- 
pline would  be  a semi-hallucinatory  mono-ideism  — an 
imaginary  figure  of  Christ,  for  example,  coming  fully  to 

^ Gorres’s  Christliche  Mystik  gives  a full  account  of  the  facts.  So  does 
Ribet’s  Mystique  Divine,  2 vols.,  Paris,  1890.  A still  more  methodical 
modern  work  is  the  Mystica  Theologia  of  Vaelgornera,  2 vols.,  Turin, 
1890. 


MYSTICISM 


401 


occupy  the  mind.  Sensorial  images  of  this  sort,  whether 
literal  or  symbolic,  play  an  enormous  part  in  mysticism.* 
But  in  certain  cases  imagery  may  fall  away  entirely,  and 
in  the  very  highest  raptures  it  tends  to  do  so.  The  state 
of  consciousness  becomes  then  insusceptible  of  any  verbal 
description.  Mystical  teachers  are  unanimous  as  to  this. 
Saint  John  of  the  Cross,  for  instance,  one  of  the  best  of 
them,  thus  describes  the  condition  called  the  ‘ union  of 
love,’  which,  he  says,  is  reached  by  ‘ dark  contemplation.’ 
In  this  the  Deity  compenetrates  the  soul,  but  in  such  a 
hidden  way  that  the  soul  — 

“finds  no  terms,  no  means,  no  comparison  whereby  to  render 
the  sublimity  of  the  wisdom  and  the  delicacy  of  the  spiritual 
feeling  with  which  she  is  filled.  ...  We  receive  this  mystical 
knowledge  of  God  clothed  in  none  of  the  kinds  of  images,  in 
none  of  the  sensible  representations,  which  our  mind  makes  use 
of  in  other  circumstances.  Accordingly  in  this  knowledge, 
since  the  senses  and  the  imagination  are  not  employed,  we  get 
neither  form  nor  impression,  nor  can  we  give  any  account  or 
furnish  any  likeness,  although  the  mysterious  and  sweet-tasting 
wisdom  comes  home  so  clearly  to  the  inmost  parts  of  our  soul. 
Fancy  a man  seeing  a certain  kind  of  thing  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life.  He  can  understand  it,  use  and  enjoy  it,  but  he  cannot 
apply  a name  to  it,  nor  communicate  any  idea  of  it,  even  though 
all  the  while  it  be  a mere  thing  of  sense.  How  much  greater 
will  be  his  powerlessness  when  it  goes  beyond  the  senses  ! This 
is  the  peculiarity  of  the  divine  language.  The  more  infused, 
intimate,  spiritual,  and  supersensible  it  is,  the  more  does  it 
exceed  the  senses,  both  inner  and  outer,  and  impose  silence 
upon  them.  . . . The  soul  then  feels  as  if  placed  in  a vast  and 
profound  solitude,  to  which  no  created  thing  has  access,  in  an 
immense  and  boundless  desert,  desert  the  more  delicious  the 

^ M.  RficfiJAC,  in  a recent  volume,  makes  them  essential.  Mysticism  he 
defines  as  “ the  tendency  to  draw  near  to  the  Absolute  morally,  and  by  the  aid 
of  Symbols.”  See  his  Fondements  de  la  Connaissance  mystique,  Paris,  1897, 
p.  66.  But  there  are  unquestionably  mystical  conditions  in  which  sensible 
symbols  play  no  part. 


408  THE  VARIETIES  OE  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


more  solitary  it  is.  There,  in  this  abyss  of  wisdom,  the  soul 
grows  by  what  it  drinks  in  from  the  well-springs  of  the  com- 
prehension of  love,  , . . and  recognizes,  however  sublime  and 
learned  may  be  the  terms  we  employ,  how  utterly  vile,  insignifi- 
cant, and  improper  they  are,  when  we  seek  to  discourse  of  divine 
things  by  their  means.”  ^ 

I cannot  pretend  to  detail  to  you  the  sundry  stages  of 
the  Christian  mystical  life.^  Our  time  would  not  sufficOj 
for  one  thing ; and  moreover,  I confess  that  the  subdi' 
visions  and  names  which  we  find  in  the  Catholic  books 
seem  to  me  to  represent  nothing  objectively  distinct.  So 
many  men,  so  many  minds : I imagine  that  these  experi- 
ences can  be  as  infinitely  varied  as  are  the  idiosyncrasies 
of  individuals. 

The  cognitive  aspects  of  them,  their  value  in  the  way 
of  revelation,  is  what  we  are  directly  concerned  with,  and 
it  is  easy  to  show  by  citation  how  strong  an  impression 
they  leave  of  being  revelations  of  new  depths  of  truth. 
Saint  Teresa  is  the  expert  of  experts  in  describing  such 
conditions,  so  I will  turn  immediately  to  what  she  says 
of  one  of  the  highest  of  them,  the  ‘ orison  of  union. ^ 

“ In  the  orison  of  union,”  says  Saint  Teresa,  “ the  soul  is 
fully  awake  as  regards  God,  but  wholly  asleep)  as  regards  things 
of  this  world  and  in  respect  of  herself.  During  the  short  time 
the  union  lasts,  she  is  as  it  were  deprived  of  every  feeling,  and 
even  if  she  would,  she  could  not  think  of  any  single  thing. 

^ Saint  John  of  the  Cross  : The  Dark  Night  of  the  Sonl,  book  ii.  ch. 
xvii.,  in  Vie  et  OEuvres,  Sine  Edition,  Paris,  1893,  iii.  428-432.  Chapter 
xi.  of  book  ii.  of  Saint  John’s  Ascent  of  Carmel  is  devoted  to  showing  the 
harmfuluess  for  the  mystical  life  of  the  use  of  sensible  imagery. 

^ In  particular  I omit  mention  of  visual  and  auditory  hallucinations,  ver- 
bal and  graphic  automatisms,  and  such  marvels  as  ‘ levitation,’  stigmatiza- 
tion, and  the  healing  of  disease.  These  phenomena,  which  mystics  have 
often  presented  (or  are  believed  to  have  presented),  have  no  essential  mys- 
tical significance,  for  they  occur  with  no  consciousness  of  illumination  what- 
ever, when  they  occur,  as  they  often  do,  in  persons  of  non-mystical  mind. 
Consciousness  of  illumination  is  for  us  the  essential  mark  of  ‘ mystical  ’ states. 


MYSTICISM 


409 


Thus  she  needs  to  employ  no  artifice  in  order  to  arrest  the  use 
of  her  understanding : it  remains  so  stricken  with  inactivity  that 
she  neither  knows  what  she  loves,  nor  in  what  manner  she  loves, 
nor  what  she  wills.  In  short,  she  is  utterly  dead  to  the  things 
of  the  world  and  lives  solely  in  God.  ...  I do  not  even  know 
whether  in  this  state  she  has  enough  life  left  to  breathe.  It 
seems  to  me  she  has  not ; or  at  least  that  if  she  does  breathe, 
she  is  unaware  of  it.  Her  intellect  would  fain  understand 
something  of  what  is  going  on  within  her,  but  it  has  so  little 
force  now  that  it  can  act  in  no  way  whatsoever.  So  a person 
who  falls  into  a deep  faint  appears  as  if  dead.  . . . 

“ Thus  does  God,  when  he  raises  a soul  to  union  with  him- 
self, suspend  the  natural  action  of  all  her  faculties.  She 
neither  sees,  hears,  nor  understands,  so  long  as  she  is  united 
with  God.  But  this  time  is  always  short,  and  it  seems  even 
shorter  than  it  is.  God  establishes  himself  in  the  interior  of 
this  soul  in  such  a way,  that  when  she  returns  to  herself,  it  is 
wholly  impossible  for  her  to  doubt  that  she  has  been  in  God, 
and  God  in  her.  This  truth  remains  so  strongly  impressed  on 
her  that,  even  though  many  years  should  pass  without  the  con- 
dition returning,  she  can  neither  forget  the  favor  she  received, 
nor  doubt  of  its  reality.  If  you,  nevertheless,  ask  how  it  is 
possible  that  the  soul  can  see  and  understand  that  she  has  been 
in  God,  since  during  the  union  she  has  neither  sight  nor  under- 
standing, I reply  that  she  does  not  see  it  then,  but  that  she 
sees  it  clearly  later,  after  she  has  returned  to  herself,  not  by 
any  vision,  but  by  a certitude  which  abides  with  her  and  which 
God  alone  can  give  her.  I knew  a person  who  was  ignorant 
of  the  truth  that  God’s  mode  of  being  in  everything  must  be 
either  by  presence,  by  power,  or  by  essence,  but  who,  after  hav- 
ing received  the  grace  of  which  I am  speaking,  believed  this 
truth  in  the  most  unshakable  manner.  So  much  so  that,  having 
consulted  a half-learned  man  who  was  as  ignorant  on  this  point 
as  she  had  been  before  she  was  enlightened,  when  he  replied 
that  God  is  in  us  only  by  ‘ grace,’  she  disbelieved  his  reply,  so 
sure  she  was  of  the  true  answer ; and  when  she  came  to  ask 
wiser  doctors,  they  confirmed  her  in  her  belief,  which  much 
consoled  her.  . . . 


410  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ But  how,  you  will  repeat,  can  one  have  such  certainty  in 
respect  to  what  one  does  not  see  ? This  question,  I am  power* 
less  to  answer.  These  are  secrets  of  God’s  omnipotence  which 
it  does  not  appertain  to  me  to  penetrate.  All  that  I know  is 
that  I tell  the  truth  ; and  I shall  never  believe  that  any  soul 
who  does  not  possess  this  certainty  has  ever  been  really  united 
to  God.”  1 

The  kinds  o£  truth  communicable  in  mystical  ways, 
whether  these  be  sensible  or  supersensible,  are  various. 
Some  of  them  relate  to  this  world,  — visions  of  the 
future,  the  reading  of  hearts,  the  sudden  understanding 
of  texts,  the  knowledge  of  distant  events,  for  example; 
but  the  most  important  revelations  are  theological  or 
metaphysical. 

“ Saint  Ignatius  confessed  one  day  to  Father  Laynez  that  a 
single  hour  of  meditation  at  Manresa  had  taught  him  more 
truths  about  heavenly  things  than  all  the  teachings  of  all  the 
doctors  put  together  could  have  taught  him.  . . . One  day  in 
orison,  on  the  steps  of  the  choir  of  the  Dominican  church,  he 
saw  in  a distinct  manner  the  plan  of  divine  wisdom  in  the  crea- 
tion of  the  world.  On  another  occasion,  during  a procession, 
his  spirit  was  ravished  in  God,  and  it  was  given  him  to  con- 
template, in  a form  and  images  fitted  to  the  weak  understand- 
ing of  a dweller  on  the  earth,  the  deep  mystery  of  the  holy 
Trinity.  This  last  vision  flooded  his  heart  with  such  sweet- 
ness, that  the  mere  memory  of  it  in  after  times  made  him  shed 
ibundant  tears.”  ^ 

' The  Interior  Castle,  Fifth  Abode,  ch.  i.,  in  CEuvres,  translated  by 
Botjrx,  iii.  421-424. 

* Bartoli-Michel  : Vie  de  Saint  Ignace  de  Loyola,  i.  34-36.  Others 
Save  had  illuminations  about  the  created  world,  Jacob  Boehme,  for  instance. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-five  he  was  “ surrounded  by  the  divine  light,  and  replen- 
ished with  the  heavenly  knowledge  ; insomuch  as  going  abroad  into  the 
fields  to  a green,  at  Gdrlitz,  he  there  sat  down,  and  viewing  the  herbs  and 
grass  of  the  field,  in  his  inward  light  he  saw  into  their  essences,  use,  and 
properties,  which  was  discovered  to  him  by  their  lineaments,  figures,  and 
signatures.”  Of  a later  period  of  experience  he  writes  : “ In  one  quarter 
of  an  hour  I saw  and  knew  more  than  if  I had  been  many  years  together  at 


MYSTICISM 


411 


Similarly  with  Saint  Teresa.  “ One  day,  being  in  orison,” 
she  writes,  “ it  was  granted  me  to  perceive  in  one  instant  how 
aU  things  are  seen  and  contained  in  God.  I did  not  perceive 
them  in  their  proper  form,  and  nevertheless  the  view  I had  of 
them  was  of  a sovereign  clearness,  and  has  remained  vividly  im- 
pressed upon  my  soul.  It  is  one  of  the  most  signal  of  all  the 
graces  which  the  Lord  has  granted  me.  . . . The  view  was  so 
subtile  and  delicate  that  the  understanding  cannot  grasp  it.”  ^ 

She  goes  on  to  tell  how  it  was  as  if  the  Deity  were  an 
enormous  and  sovereignly  limpid  diamond,  in  which  all 
our  actions  were  contained  in  such  a way  that  their  full 
sinfulness  appeared  evident  as  never  before.  On  another 
day,  she  relates,  while  she  was  reciting  the  Athanasian 
Creed,  — 

“ Our  Lord  made  me  comprehend  in  what  way  it  is  that  one 
God  can  be  in  three  Persons.  He  made  me  see  it  so  clearly 

an  university.  For  I saw  and  knew  the  being  of  all  things,  the  Byss  and 
the  Abyss,  and  the  eternal  generation  of  the  holy  Trinity,  the  descent  and 
original  of  the  world  and  of  all  creatures  through  the  divine  wisdom.  I 
knew  and  saw  in  myself  all  the  three  worlds,  the  external  and  visible  world 
being  of  a procreation  or  extern  birth  from  both  the  internal  and  spiritual 
worlds  ; and  I saw  and  knew  the  whole  working  essence,  in  the  evil  and 
in  the  good,  and  the  mutual  original  and  existence  ; and  likewise  how  the 
fruitful  bearing  womb  of  eternity  brought  forth.  So  that  I did  not  only 
greatly  wonder  at  it,  but  did  also  exceedingly  rejoice,  albeit  I coidd  very 
hardly  apprehend  the  same  in  my  external  man  and  set  it  down  with  the 
pen.  For  I had  a thorough  view  of  the  universe  as  in  a chaos,  wherein  all 
things  are  couched  and  wrapt  up,  but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  expli- 
cate the  same.”  Jacob  Behmen’s  Theosophic  Philosophy,  etc.,  by  Edward 
Taylor,  London,  1691,  pp.  425,  427,  abridged.  So  George  Fox  : “ I was 
come  up  to  the  state  of  Adam  in  which  he  was  before  he  fell.  The  crea- 
tion was  opened  to  me  ; and  it  was  showed  me,  how  all  things  had  their 
names  given  to  them,  according  to  their  nature  and  virtue.  I was  at  a 
stand  in  my  mind,  whether  I should  practice  physic  for  the  good  of  mankind, 
seeing  the  nature  and  virtues  of  the  creatures  were  so  opened  to  me  by  the 
Lord.”  Journal,  Philadelphia,  no  date,  p.  69.  Contemporary  ‘ Clairvoy- 
ance’ abounds  in  similar  revelations.  Andrew  Jackson  Davis’s  cosmogonies, 
for  example,  or  certain  experiences  related  in  the  delectable  ‘ Reminiscences 
and  Memories  of  Henry  Thomas  Butterworth,’  Lebanon,  Ohio,  1886. 

5 Vie,  pp.  581,  582. 


412  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

that  I remained  as  extremely  surprised  as  I was  comforted,  . . . 
and  now,  when  I think  of  the  holy  Trinity,  or  hear  It  spoken 
of,  I understand  how  the  three  adorable  Persons  form  only  one 
God  and  I experience  an  unspeakable  happiness.” 

On  still  another  occasion,  it  was  given  to  Saint  Teresa 
to  see  and  understand  in  what  wise  the  Mother  of  God 
had  been  assumed  into  her  place  in  Heaven.^ 

The  deliciousness  of  some  of  these  states  seems  to  be 
beyond  anything  known  in  ordinary  consciousness.  It 
evidently  involves  organic  sensibilities,  for  it  is  spoken  of 
as  something  too  extreme  to  be  borne,  and  as  verging  on 
bodily  pain.^  But  it  is  too  subtle  and  piercing  a delight 
for  ordinary  words  to  denote.  God’s  touches,  the  wounds 
of  his  spear,  references  to  ebriety  and  to  nuptial  union 
have  to  figure  in  the  phraseology  by  which  it  is  shadowed 
forth.  Intellect  and  senses  both  swoon  away  in  these 
highest  states  of  ecstasy.  “ If  our  understanding  com- 
prehends,” says  Saint  Teresa,  “ it  is  in  a mode  which 
remains  unknown  to  it,  and  it  can  understand  nothing  of 
what  it  comprehends.  For  my  own  part,  I do  not  believe 
that  it  does  comprehend,  because,  as  I said,  it  does  not 
understand  itself  to  do  so.  I confess  that  it  is  all  a mys- 
tery in  which  I am  lost.”  ^ In  the  condition  called  raptus 
or  ravishment  by  theologians,  breathing  and  circulation 
are  so  depressed  that  it  is  a question  among  the  doctors 
whether  the  soul  be  or  be  not  temporarily  dissevered 
from  the  body.  One  must  read  Saint  Teresa’s  descrip- 
tions and  the  very  exact  distinctions  which  she  makes,  to 

1 Loc.  cit.,  p.  574. 

* Saint  Teresa  discriminates  between  pain  in  which  the  body  has  a part 
and  pure  spiritual  pain  (Interior  Castle,  6th  Abode,  ch.  xi.).  As  for  the 
bodily  part  in  these  celestial  joys,  she  speaks  of  it  as  “ penetrating  to  the 
marrow  of  the  bones,  whilst  earthly  pleasures  affect  only  the  surface  of 
the  senses.  I think,”  she  adds,  “that  this  is  a just  description,  and  I can» 
not  make  it  better.”  Ibid.,  6th  Abode,  ch.  i. 

® Vie,  p.  198. 


MYSTICISM 


413 


persuade  one’s  self  that  one  is  dealing,  not  with  imagi- 
nary experiences,  but  with  phenomena  which,  however 
rare,  follow  perfectly  definite  psychological  types. 

To  the  medical  mind  these  ecstasies  signify  nothing 
but  suggested  and  imitated  hypnoid  states,  on  an  intel- 
lectual basis  of  superstition,  and  a corporeal  one  of  de= 

! generation  and  hysteria.  Undoubtedly  these  pathological 
conditions  have  existed  in  many  and  possibly  in  all  the 
cases,  but  that  fact  tells  us  nothing  about  the  value  for 
knowledge  of  the  consciousness  which  they  induce.  To 
( pass  a spiritual  judgment  upon  these  states,  we  must 
I not  content  ourselves  with  superficial  medical  talk,  but 
inquire  into  their  fruits  for  life. 

Their  fruits  appear  to  have  been  various.  Stupefaction, 
for  one  thing,  seems  not  to  have  been  altogether  absent 
as  a result.  You  may  remember  the  helplessness  in  the 
kitchen  and  schoolroom  of  poor  Margaret  Mary  Alaeoque. 
Many  other  ecstatics  would  have  perished  but  for  the 
care  taken  of  them  by  admiring  followers.  The  ‘ other- 
worldliness ’ encouraged  by  the  mystical  consciousness 
makes  this  over-abstraction  from  practical  life  peculiarly 
liable  to  befall  mystics  in  whom  the  character  is  naturally 
passive  and  the  mtellect  feeble;  but  in  natively  strong 
minds  and  characters  we  find  quite  opposite  results.  The 
great  Spanish  mystics,  who  carried  the  habit  of  ecstasy 
as  far  as  it  has  often  been  carried,  appear  for  the  most 
part  to  have  shown  indomitable  spirit  and  energy,  and 
all  the  more  so  for  the  trances  in  which  they  indulged. 

Saint  Ignatius  was  a mystic,  but  his  mysticism  made 
him  assuredly  one  of  the  most  powerfully  practical  hu- 
man engines  that  ever  lived.  Saint  John  of  the  Cross, 
writing  of  the  intuitions  and  ‘ touches  ’ by  which  God 
teaches  the  substance  of  the  soul,  tells  us  that  — 


414  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


“ They  enrich  it  marvelously.  A single  one  of  them  may  be 
sufficient  to  abolish  at  a stroke  certain  imperfections  of  which 
the  soul  during  its  whole  life  had  vainly  tried  to  rid  itself,  and 
to  leave  it  adorned  with  virtues  and  loaded  with  supernatural 
gifts.  A single  one  of  these  intoxicating  consolations  may  re- 
ward it  for  all  the  labors  undergone  in  its  life  — even  were  they 
numberless.  Invested  with  an  invincible  courage,  filled  with  an 
impassioned  desire  to  suffer  for  its  God,  the  soul  then  is  seized 
with  a strange  torment  — that  of  not  being  allowed  to  suffer 
enough.”  ^ 

Saint  Teresa  is  as  emphatic,  and  much  more  detailed. 
You  may  perhaps  remember  a passage  I quoted  from  her 
in  my  first  lecture.^  There  are  many  similar  pages  in 
her  autobiography.  Where  in  literature  is  a more  evi- 
dently veracious  account  of  the  formation  of  a new  centre 
of  spiritual  energy,  than  is  given  in  her  description  of 
the  effects  of  certain  ecstasies  which  in  departing  leave 
the  soul  upon  a higher  level  of  emotional  excitement  ? 

“ Often,  infirm  and  wrought  upon  with  dreadful  pains  before 
the  ecstasy,  the  soul  emerges  from  it  full  of  health  and  admir- 
ably disposed  for  action  ...  as  if  God  had  willed  that  the  body 
itself,  already  obedient  to  the  soul’s  desires,  should  share  in  the 
soul’s  happiness.  . . . The  soul  after  such  a favor  is  animated 
with  a degree  of  courage  so  great  that  if  at  that  moment  its 
body  should  be  torn  to  pieces  for  the  cause  of  God,  it  would 
feel  nothing  but  the  liveliest  comfort.  Then  it  is  that  promises 
and  heroic  resolutions  spring  up  in  profusion  in  us,  soaring 
desires,  horror  of  the  world,  and  the  clear  perception  of  our 
proper  nothingness.  . . . What  empire  is  comparable  to  that 
of  a soul  who,  from  this  sublime  summit  to  which  God  has 
raised  her,  sees  all  the  things  of  earth  beneath  her  feet,  and  is 
captivated  by  no  one  of  them  ? How  ashamed  she  is  of  her 
former  attachments ! How  amazed  at  her  blindness  ! What 
lively  pity  she  feels  for  those  whom  she  recognizes  still  shrouded 
in  the  darkness ! . . . She  groans  at  having  ever  been  sensh 


^ CEuvres,  ii.  320. 


* Above,  p.  21. 


MYSTICISM 


416 


tive  to  points  of  honor,  at  the  illusion  that  made  her  ever  see 
as  honor  what  the  world  calls  by  that  name.  Now  she  sees  in 
this  name  nothing  more  than  an  immense  lie  of  which  the  world 
remains  a victim.  She  discovers,  in  the  new  light  from  above, 
that  in  genuine  honor  there  is  nothing  spurious,  that  to  be 
faithful  to  this  honor  is  to  give  our  respect  to  what  deserves  to 
be  respected  really,  and  to  consider  as  nothing,  or  as  less  than 
nothing,  whatsoever  perishes  and  is  not  agreeable  to  God.  . . . 
She  laughs  when  she  sees  grave  persons,  persons  of  orison, 
caring  for  points  of  honor  for  which  she  now  feels  profoundest 
contempt.  It  is  suitable  to  the  dignity  of  their  rank  to  act 
thus,  they  pretend,  and  it  makes  them  more  useful  to  others. 
But  she  knows  that  in  despising  the  dignity  of  their  rank  for 
the  pure  love  of  God  they  would  do  more  good  in  a single  day 
than  they  would  effect  in  ten  years  by  preserving  it.  . . . She 
laughs  at  herself  that  there  should  ever  have  been  a time  in  hei 
life  when  she  made  any  case  of  money,  when  she  ever  desired 
it.  . . . Oh ! if  human  beings  might  only  agree  together  to 
regard  it  as  so  much  useless  mud,  what  harmony  would  then 
reign  in  the  world ! With  what  friendship  we  would  all  treat 
each  other  if  our  interest  in  honor  and  in  money  could  but  dis- 
appear from  earth ! For  my  own  part,  I feel  as  if  it  would  be  a 
remedy  for  all  our  ills.”  ^ 

Mystical  conditions  may,  therefore,  render  the  soul 
more  energetic  in  the  lines  which  their  inspiration  favors. 
But  this  could  be  reckoned  an  advantage  only  in  case 
the  inspiration  were  a true  one.  If  the  inspiration  were 
erroneous,  the  energy  would  be  aU  the  moi'e  mistaken 
and  misbegotten.  So  we  stand  once  more  before  that 
problem  of  truth  which  confronted  us  at  the  end  of  the 
lectures  on  saintliness.  You  wiU  remember  that  we 
turned  to  mysticism  precisely  to  get  some  light  on  truth. 
Do  mystical  states  establish  the  truth  of  those  theologi- 
cal affections  in  which  the  saintly  life  has  its  root  ? 

In  spite  of  their  repudiation  of  articulate  self-descrip 

» Vie,  pp.  229,  200,  231-233,  243. 


416  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

tion,  mystical  states  in  general  assert  a pretty  distinct 
theoretic  drift.  It  is  possible  to  give  the  outcome  of  the 
majority  of  them  in  terms  that  point  in  definite  philosophi- 
cal directions.  One  of  these  directions  is  optimism,  and 
the  other  is  monism.  We  pass  into  mystical  states  from 
out  of  ordinary  consciousness  as  from  a less  into  a more, 
as  from  a smallness  into  a vastness,  and  at  the  same  time 
as  from  an  unrest  to  a rest.  W e feel  them  as  reconciling, 
unifying  states.  They  appeal  to  the  yes-function  more 
than  to  the  no-f unction  in  us.  In  them  the  unlimited 
absorbs  the  limits  and  peacefully  closes  the  account. 
Their  very  denial  of  every  adjective  you  may  propose 
as  apphcable  to  the  ultimate  truth,  — He,  the  Self,  the 
Atman,  is  to  be  described  by  ‘ No  ! no  ! ’ only,  say  the 
Upanishads,^  — though  it  seems  on  the  surface  to  be  a 
no-function,  is  a denial  made  on  behalf  of  a deeper  yes. 
Whoso  calls  the  Absolute  anything  in  particular,  or  says 
that  it  is  this,  seems  implicitly  to  shut  it  off  from  being 
that  — it  is  as  if  he  lessened  it.  So  we  deny  the  ‘ this,’ 
negating  the  negation  which  it  seems  to  us  to  imply,  in 
the  interests  of  the  higher  affirmative  attitude  by  which 
we  are  possessed.  The  fountain-head  of  Christian  mys- 
ticism is  Dionysius  the  Areopagite.  He  describes  the 
absolute  truth  by  negatives  exclusively. 

“ The  cause  of  all  things  is  neither  soul  nor  intellect ; nor 
has  it  imagination,  opinion,  or  reason,  or  intelligence ; nor  is  it 
reason  or  intelligence ; nor  is  it  spoken  or  thought.  It  is 
neither  number,  nor  order,  nor  magnitude,  nor  littleness,  nor 
equality,  nor  inequality,  nor  similarity,  nor  dissimilarity.  It 
neither  stands,  nor  moves,  nor  rests.  ...  It  is  neither  es- 
sence, nor  eternity,  nor  time.  Even  intellectual  contact  does 
not  belong  to  it.  It  is  neither  science  nor  truth.  It  is  not 
even  royalty  or  wisdom ; not  one ; not  unity ; not  divinity 


* Mullek’s  translation,  part  ii.  p.  180. 


MYSTICISM 


417 


<jr  goodness ; nor  even  spirit  as  we  know  it,”  etc.,  ad  libi- 
tum.^ 

But  these  qualifications  are  denied  by  Dionysius,  not 
because  the  truth  falls  short  of  them,  but  because  it  so 
infinitely  excels  them.  It  is  above  them.  It  is  super- 
lucent,  st«^:>er-splendent,  s?«j9er-essential,  swper-sublime, 
super  everything  that  can  be  named.  Like  Hegel  in  his 
logic,  mystics  journey  towards  the  positive  pole  of  truth 
only  by  the  ‘ Methode  der  Absoluten  Negativitat.’  ^ 

Thus  come  the  paradoxical  expressions  that  so  abound 
in  mystical  writings.  As  when  Eckhart  teUs  of  the  still 
desert  of  the  Godhead,  ‘‘  where  never  was  seen  difference, 
neither  Father,  Son,  nor  Holy  Ghost,  where  there  is  no 
one  at  home,  yet  where  the  spark  of  the  soul  is  more  at 
peace  than  in  itself.”  ^ As  when  Boehme  writes  of  the 
Primal  Love,  that  “ it  may  fitly  be  compared  to  Nothing, 
for  it  is  deeper  than  any  Thing,  and  is  as  nothing  with 
respect  to  all  things,  forasmuch  as  it  is  not  comprehen- 
sible by  any  of  them.  And  because  it  is  nothing  respec- 
tively, it  is  therefore  free  from  all  things,  and  is  that 
only  good,  which  a man  cannot  express  or  utter  what  it 
is,  there  being  nothing  to  which  it  may  be  compared,  to 
express  it  by.”  ^ Or  as  when  Angelus  Silesius  sings  : — 

“ Gott  ist  ein  lauter  Niclits,  ihn  riihrt  kein  Nun  noch  Hier  ; 

Je  mehr  du  nach  ihm  greiffst,  je  mehr  entwind  er  dir.”  ® 

To  this  dialectical  use,  by  the  intellect,  of  negation  as 

^ T.  Davtdson’s  translation,  in  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,  1893, 
vol.  xxii,  p.  399. 

2 “ Deus  propter  excellentiam  non  immerito  Nihil  voeatur.”  Scotus  Eri- 
srena,  quoted  by  Andrew  Seth  : Two  Lectures  on  Theism,  New  York, 
1897,  p.  55. 

® J.  Eoyce  : Studies  in  Good  and  Evil,  p.  282. 

^ Jacob  Behmen’s  Dialogues  on  the  Supersensual  Life,  translated  by 
Bernard  Holland,  London,  1901,  p.  48. 

* Cherubinischer  Wandersmann,  Strophe  25. 


418 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


a mode  of  passage  towards  a higher  kind  of  affirmation, 
there  is  correlated  the  subtlest  of  moral  counterparts  in 
the  sphere  of  the  personal  will.  Since  denial  of  the  finite 
self  and  its  wants,  since  asceticism  of  some  sort,  is  found 
in  religious  experience  to  be  the  only  doorway  to  the 
larger  and  more  blessed  life,  this  moral  mystery  inter 
twines  and  combines  with  the  intellectual  mystery  in  all 
mystical  writings. 

“ Love,”  continues  Behmen,  is  Nothing,  for  “ when  thou  art 
gone  forth  wholly  from  the  Creature  and  from  that  which  is 
visible,  and  art  become  Nothing  to  all  that  is  Nature  and 
Creature,  then  thou  art  in  that  eternal  One,  which  is  God  him- 
self, and  then  thou  shalt  feel  within  thee  the  highest  virtue  of 
Love.  . . . The  treasure  of  treasures  for  the  soul  is  where  she 
goeth  out  of  the  Somewhat  into  that  Nothing  out  of  which  all 
things  may  be  made.  The  soul  here  saith,  I have  nothing^  for 
I am  utterly  stripped  and  naked ; I can  do  nothing^  for  I have 
no  manner  of  power,  but  am  as  water  poured  out ; lam  nothing^ 
for  all  that  I am  is  no  more  than  an  image  of  Being,  and  only 
God  is  to  me  I AM ; and  so,  sitting  down  in  my  own  Nothing- 
ness, I give  glory  to  the  eternal  Being,  and  will  nothing  of  my- 
self, that  so  God  may  will  all  in  me,  being  unto  me  my  God 
and  all  things.”  ^ 

In  Paul’s  language,  I live,  yet  not  I,  hut  Christ  liveth 
in  me.  Only  when  I become  as  nothing  can  God  enter 
in  and  no  difference  between  his  life  and  mine  remain 
outstanding.^ 

^ Op.  cit.,  pp.  42,  74,  abridged. 

2 From  a French  book  I take  this  mystical  expression  of  happiness  in 
God’s  indwelling  presence  : — 

“Jesus  has  come  to  take  up  his  abode  in  my  heart.  It  is  not  so  much  a 
habitation,  an  association,  as  a sort  of  fusion.  Oh,  new  and  blessed  life  ! 
life  which  becomes  each  day  more  luminous.  . . . The  wall  before  me, 
dark  a few  moments  since,  is  splendid  at  this  hour  because  the  sun  shines 
on  it.  Wherever  its  rays  fall  they  light  up  a conflagration  of  glory  ; the 
smallest  speck  of  glass  sparkles,  each  grain  of  sand  emits  fire  ; even  so 
there  is  a royal  song  of  triumph  in  my  heart  because  the  Lord  is  there.  Mj 


MYSTICISM 


419 


This  overcoming  of  all  the  usual  barriers  between  the 
individual  and  the  Absolute  is  the  great  mystic  achieve- 
ment. In  mystic  states  we  both  become  one  with  the 
Absolute  and  we  become  aware  of  our  oneness.  This  is 
the  everlasting  and  triumphant  mystical  tradition,  hardly 
altered  by  differences  of  clime  or  creed.  In  Hinduism, 
in  Neoplatonism,  in  Sufism,  in  Christian  mysticism,  in 
Whitmanism,  we  find  the  same  recurring  note,  so  that 
there  is  about  mystical  utterances  an  eternal  unanimity 
which  ought  to  make  a critic  stop  and  think,  and  which 
brings  it  about  that  the  mystical  classics  have,  as  has 
been  said,  neither  birthday  nor  native  land.  Perpetually 
telling  of  the  unity  of  man  with  God,  their  speech  ante- 
dates languages,  and  they  do  not  grow  old,^ 

‘That  art  Thou!’  say  the  Upanishads,  and  the  Ve- 
dantists  add  : ‘ Not  a part,  not  a mode  of  That,  but  iden- 
tically That,  that  absolute  Spirit  of  the  World.’  “As 
pure  water  poured  into  pure  water  remains  the  same, 
thus,  0 Gautama,  is  the  Self  of  a thinker  who  knows. 

days  succeed  each  other  ; yesterday  a blue  sky  ; to-day  a clouded  sun  ; a 
night  filled  with  strange  dreams  ; hut  as  soon  as  the  eyes  open,  and  I regain 
consciousness  and  seem  to  begin  life  again,  it  is  always  the  same  figure 
before  me,  always  the  same  presence  filling  my  heart.  . . . Formerly  the 
day  was  dulled  by  the  absence  of  the  Lord.  I used  to  wake  invaded  by  all 
sorts  of  sad  impressions,  and  I did  not  find  him  on  my  path.  To-day  he  is 
with  me  ; and  fhe  light  cloudiness  which  covers  things  is  not  an  obstacle  to 
my  communion  with  him.  I feel  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  I feel  something 
else  which  fills  me  with  a serene  joy  ; shall  I dare  to  speak  it  out  ? Yes, 
for  it  is  the  true  expression  of  what  I experience.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  not 
merely  making  me  a visit ; it  is  no  mere  dazzling  apparition  which  may 
from  one  moment  to  another  spread  its  wings  and  leave  me  in  my  night,  it 
is  a permanent  habitation.  He  can  depart  only  if  he  takes  me  with  him. 
More  than  that  ; he  is  not  other  than  myself  : he  is  one  with  me.  It  is  not 
a juxtaposition,  it  is  a penetration,  a profound  modification  of  my  nature, 
a new  manner  of  my  being.”  Quoted  from  the  MS.  ‘of  an  old  man’  by 
Wilfred  Monod  ; H Vit : six  meditations  sur  le  mystfere  chretien,  pp.  280- 
283. 

^ Compare  M.  Maeteellnck  : L’Ornement  des  Noces  spiritueUes  de 
Ruysbroeck,  Bruxelles,  1891,  Introduction,  p.  xix. 


420  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

Water  in  water,  fire  in  fire,  ether  in  ether,  no  one  can 
distinguish  them ; likewise  a man  whose  mind  has  entered 
into  the  Self.”  ^ ‘ Every  man,’  says  the  Sufi  Gulshan- 

Raz,  ‘ whose  heart  is  no  longer  shaken  by  any  doubt, 
knows  with  certainty  that  there  is  no  being  save  only 
One.  ...  In  his  divine  majesty  the  me,  the  we,  the 
thou,  are  not  found,  for  in  the  One  there  can  be  no  dis= 
tinction.  Every  being  who  is  annulled  and  entirely  sep= 
arated  from  himself,  hears  resound  outside  of  him  this 
voice  and  this  echo  : I am  God : he  has  an  eternal  way 
of  existing,  and  is  no  longer  subject  to  death.’  ” ^ In 
the  vision  of  God,  says  Plotinus,  “ what  sees  is  not  our 
reason,  but  something  prior  and  superior  to  our  reason. 
. . . He  who  thus  sees  does  not  properly  see,  does  not 
distinguish  or  imagine  two  things.  He  changes,  he 
ceases  to  be  himself,  preserves  nothing  of  himself.  Ab- 
sorbed in  God,  he  makes  but  one  with  him,  like  a centre 
of  a circle  coinciding  with  another  centre.”  ® “ Here,” 

writes  Suso,  “ the  spirit  dies,  and  yet  is  all  alive  in  the 
marvels  of  the  Godhead  . . . and  is  lost  in  the  stillness 
of  the  glorious  dazzling  obscurity  and  of  the  naked  sim- 
ple unity.  It  is  in  this  modeless  where  that  the  highest 
bliss  is  to  be  found.”  ^ “ Ich  bin  so  gross  als  Gott,” 

sings  Angelus  Silesius  again,  “ Er  ist  als  ich  so  klein ; 
Er  kann  nicht  fiber  mich,  ich  unter  ihm  nicht  sein.”  ® 

In  mystical  literature  such  self-contradictory  phrases  as 
‘ dazzling  obscurity,’  ‘ whispering  silence,’  teeming  desert,’ 
are  continually  met  with.  They  prove  that  not  conceptual 
speech,  but  music  rather,  is  the  element  through  which  we 

1 Upanishads,  M.  MCllee’s  translation,  ii.  17,  .334. 

® ScHMOLDERS  : Op.  cit.,  p.  210. 

* Enneads,  Boxxillier’s  translation.  Paris,  1861,  iii.  661.  Compare  pp. 
473-477,  and  vol.  i.  p.  27. 

^ Autobiography,  pp.  309,  310- 

® Op.  cit..  Strophe  10. 


MYSTICISM 


421 


are  best  spoken  to  by  mystical  truth.  Many  mystical 
scriptures  are  indeed  bttle  more  than  musical  compositions. 

“ He  who  would  hear  the  voice  of  Nada,  ‘ the  Soundless 
Sound,’  and  comprehend  it,  he  has  to  learn  the  nature  of  Dha- 
rana.  . . . When  to  himself  his  form  appears  unreal,  as  do  on 
waking  all  the  forms  he  sees  in  dreams  ; when  he  has  ceased 
to  hear  the  many,  he  may  discern  the  ONE  — the  inner  sound 
which  kills  the  outer.  ...  For  then  the  soul  will  hear,  and 
will  remember.  And  then  to  the  inner  ear  will  speak  the 
VOICE  OF  THE  SILENCE.  . . . And  now  thy  Self  is  lost  in  SELF, 
thyself  unto  THYSELF,  merged  in  that  self  from  which  thou 
first  didst  radiate.  . . . Behold  ! thou  hast  become  the  Light, 
thou  hast  become  the  Sound,  thou  art  thy  Master  and  thy 
God.  Thou  art  thyself  the  object  of  thy  search  : the  voice 
unbroken,  that  resounds  throughout  eternities,  exempt  from 
change,  from  sin  exempt,  the  seven  sounds  in  one,  the  voice 
OF  THE  SILENCE.  Om  tat  Sat.”  ^ 

These  words,  if  they  do  not  awaken  laughter  as  you 
receive  them,  probably  stir  chords  within  you  which 
music  and  language  touch  in  common.  Music  gives  us 
ontological  messages  which  non-musical  criticism  is  un- 
able to  contradict,  though  it  may  laugh  at  our  foolishness 
in  minding  them.  There  is  a verge  of  the  mind  which 
these  things  haunt ; and  whispers  therefrom  mingle  with 
the  operations  of  our  understanding,  even  as  the  waters 
of  the  infinite  ocean  send  their  waves  to  break  among  the 
pebbles  that  lie  upon  our  shores. 

“ Here  begins  the  sea  that  ends  not  till  the  world’s  end.  Where  we  stand. 
Could  we  know  the  next  high  sea-mark  set  beyond  these  waves  that  gleam, 
We  should  know  what  never  man  hath  known,  nor  eye  of  man  hath 
scanned.  . . . 

Ah,  but  here  man’s  heart  leaps,  yearning  towards  the  gloom  with  venturous 
gleO’ 

From  the  shore  that  hath  no  shore  beyond  it,  set  in  all  the  sea.”  * 

1 H.  P.  Blavatsky  : The  Voice  of  the  Silence. 

® Swinburne  : On  the  Verge,  in  ‘A  Midsummer  Vacation.* 


422  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


That  doctrine,  for  example,  that  eternity  is  timeless, 
that  our  ‘ immortality,’  if  we  live  in  the  eternal,  is  not  so 
much  future  as  already  now  and  here,  which  we  find  so 
often  expressed  to-day  in  certain  philosophic  circles,  finds 
its  support  in  a ‘ hear,  hear ! ’ or  an  ‘ amen,’  which  floats 
up  from  that  mysteriously  deeper  level/  We  recognize 
the  passwords  to  the  mystical  region  as  we  hear  them, 
but  we  cannot  use  them  ourselves ; it  alone  has  the  keep" 
ing  of  ‘ the  password  primeval.’  ^ 

I have  now  sketched  with  extreme  brevity  and  insuffi- 
ciency, but  as  fairly  as  I am  able  in  the  time  allowed,  the 
general  traits  of  the  mystic  range  of  consciousness.  It 
'STis  on  the  whole  pantheistic  and  optimistic,  or  at  least 
\ the  opposite  of  pessimistic.  It  is  anti-naturalistic,  and 
1 harmonizes  best  with  twice-bornness  and  so-called  other- 
worldly states  of  mind. 

My  next  task  is  to  inquire  whether  we  can  invoke  it  as 
authoritative.  Does  it  furnish  way  warrant  for  the  truth 
of  the  twice-bornness  and  supernaturality  and  pantheism 
which  it  favors  ? I must  give  my  answer  to  this  question 
as  concisely  as  I can. 

In  brief  my  answer  is  this,  — and  I wiU  divide  it  into 
three  parts : — 

(1)  Mystical  states,  when  well  developed,  usually  are, 
'and  have  the  right  to  be,  absolutely  authoritative  over 
the  individuals  to  whom  they  come. 

(2)  No  authority  emanates  from  them  which  should 
make  it  a duty  for  those  who  stand  outside  of  them  to 
accept  their  revelations  uncritically. 

1 Compare  the  extracts  from  Dr.  Bucke,  quoted  on  pp.  398,  399. 

* As  serious  an  attempt  as  I know  to  mediate  between  the  mystical  region 
and  the  discursive  life  is  contained  in  an  article  on  Aristotle’s  Unmoved 
Mover,  by  F.  C.  S.  Schiller,  in  Mind,  vol.  ix.,  1900 


RIYSTICISM 


423 


(3)  They  break  down  the  authority  of  the  non-mys- 
tical  or  rationalistic  consciousness,  based  upon  the  under- 
standing and  the  senses  alone.  They  show  it  to  be  only 
one  kind  of  consciousness.  They  open  out  the  possibility 
of  other  orders  of  truth,  in  which,  so  far  as  anything  in 
us  vitally  responds  to  them,  we  may  freely  continue  to 
have  faith. 

I will  take  up  these  points  one  by  one. 

1. 

As  a matter  of  psychological  fact,  mystical  states  of 
a well-pronounced  and  emphatic  sort  are  usually  au- 
thoritative over  those  who  have  them.^  They  have  been 
‘ there,’  and  know.  It  is  vain  for  rationalism  to  grumble 
about  this.  If  the  mystical  truth  that  comes  to  a man 
proves  to  be  a force  that  he  can  live  by,  what  mandate 
have  we  of  the  majority  to  order  him  to  live  in  another 
way?  We  can  throw  him  into  a prison  or  a madhouse, 
but  we  cannot  change  his  mind  — we  commonly  attach 
it  only  the  more  stubbornly  to  its  beliefs.^  It  mocks 
our  utmost  efforts,  as  a matter  of  fact,  and  in  point  of 
logic  it  absolutely  escapes  our  jurisdiction.  Our  own 
more  ‘ rational  ’ beliefs  are  based  on  evidence  exactly 
similar  in  nature  to  that  which  mystics  quote  for  theirs. 
Our  senses,  namely,  have  assured  us  of  certain  states  of 
fact ; but  mystical  experiences  are  as  direct  perceptions 

1 I abstract  from  weaker  states,  and  from  those  cases  of  which  the  books 
are  full,  where  the  director  (but  usually  not  the  subject)  remains  in  doubt 
whether  the  experience  may  not  have  proceeded  from  the  demon. 

* Example  : Mr.  John  Nelson  writes  of  his  imprisonment  for  preaching 
Methodism  : “ My  soul  was  as  a watered  garden,  and  I could  sing  praises 
to  God  all  day  long  ; for  he  turned  my  captivity  into  joy,  and  gave  me  to 
rest  as  well  on  the  boards,  as  if  I had  been  on  a bed  of  down.  Now  could 
I say,  ‘God’s  service  is  perfect  freedom,’  and  T was  carried  out  much  in 
prayer  that  my  enemies  might  drink  of  the  same  river  of  peace  which  my 
God  gave  so  largely  to  me.”  Journal,  London,  no  date,  p.  172. 


424  THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  fact  for  those  who  have  them  as  any  sensations  ever 
were  for  us.  The  records  show  that  even  though  the 
five  senses  be  in  abeyance  in  them,  they  are  absolutely 
sensational  in  their  epistemological  quality,  if  I may  be 
pardoned  the  barbarous  expression,  — that  is,  they  are 
face  to  face  presentations  of  what  seems  immediately  to 
exist. 

The  mystic  is,  in  short,  invulnerable,  and  must  be  left, 
whether  we  relish  it  or  not,  in  undisturbed  enjoyment 
of  his  creed.  Faith,  says  Tolstoy,  is  that  by  which  men 
live.  And  faith-state  and  mystic  state  are  practically 
mnvertible  terms. 

\ 2. 

n^'But  I now  proceed  to  add  that  mystics  have  no  right 
to  claim  that  we  ought  to  accept  the  deliverance  of 
their  peculiar  experiences,  if  we  are  ourselves  outsiders 
and  feel  no  private  call  thereto.  The  utmost  they  can 
ever  ask  of  us  in  this  life  is  to  admit  that  they  establish 
a presumption.  They  form  a consensus  and  have  an  un- 
equivocal outcome  ; and  it  would  be  odd,  mystics  might 
say,  if  such  a unanimous  type  of  experience  should  prove 
to  be  altogether  wrong.  At  bottom,  however,  this  would 
only  be  an  appeal  to  numbers,  like  the  appeal  of  rational- 
ism the  other  way ; and  the  appeal  to  numbers  has  no 
logical  force.  If  we  acknowledge  it,  it  is  for  ‘ sugges- 
tive,’ not  for  logical  reasons  : we  follow  the  majority  be- 
cause to  do  so  suits  our  life. 

But  even  this  presumption  from  the  unanimity  of 
mystics  is  far  from  being  strong.  In  characterizing 
mystic  states  as  pantheistic,  optimistic,  etc.,  I am  afraid  I 
over-simplified  the  truth.  I did  so  for  expository  reasons, 
and  to  keep  the  closer  to  the  classic  mystical  tradition. 
The  classic  rehgious  mysticism,  it  now  must  be  con* 


MYSTICISM 


425 


fessed,  is  only  a ‘ privileged  case.’  It  is  an  extract, 
kept  true  to  type  by  tbe  selection  of  the  fittest  speci- 
mens and  their  preservation  in  ‘ schools.’  It  is  carved 
out  from  a much  larger  mass  ; and  if  we  take  the  larger 
mass  as  seriously  as  rehgious  mysticism  has  historically 
taken  itself,  we  find  that  the  supposed  unanimity  largely 
disappears.  To  begin  with,  even  religious  mysticism 
itself,  the  kind  that  accumulates  traditions  and  makes 
schools,  is  much  less  unanimous  than  I have  allowed.  It 
has  been  both  ascetic  and  antinomianly  self-indulgent 
within  the  Christian  church.^  It  is  dualistic  in  Sankhya, 
and  monistic  in  V edanta  philosophy.  I called  it  panthe- 
istic ; but  the  great  Spanish  mystics  are  anything  but 
pantheists.  They  are  with  few  exceptions  non-metaphysh 
cal  minds,  for  whom  ‘ the  category  of  personahty  ’ is 
absolute.  The  ‘ union  ’ of  man  with  God  is  for  them 
much  more  like  an  occasional  mh-acle  than  like  an  original 
identity.^  How  different  again,  apart  from  the  happiness 
common  to  all,  is  the  mysticism  of  Walt  Whitman,  Ed- 
ward Carpenter,  Richard  Jefferies,  and  other  naturafistic 
pantheists,  from  the  more  distinctively  Christian  sort.® 
The  fact  is  that  the  mystical  feeling  of  enlargement, 
union,  and  emancipation  has  no  specific  intellectual  con- 
tent whatever  of  its  own.  It  is  capable  of  forming  matri- 
monial alliances  with  material  furnished  by  the  most 
diverse  philosophies  and  theologies,  provided  only  they 

* Ruysbroeck,  in  the  work  which  Maeterlinck  has  translated,  has  a 
chapter  against  the  antinomianism  of  disciples.  H.  Delacroix’s  book 
(Essai  sur  le  mysticisme  spdcniatif  en  Allemagne  au  XlVme  Sifecle,  Paris, 
1900)  is  full  of  antinomian  material.  Compare  also  A.  Jundt  : Les  Amis 
de  Dieu  au  XlVme  Siecle,  Th^se  de  Strasbourg,  1879. 

* Compare  Paul  Rousselot  : Les  Mystiques  Espagnols,  Paris,  1869, 
ch.  xii. 

® See  Carpenter’s  Towards  Democracy,  especially  the  latter  parts,  and 
Jefferies’s  wonderful  and  splendid  mystic  rhapsody.  The  Story  of  my 
Heart. 


426  THE  VAEIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


can  find  a place  in  their  framework  for  its  peculiar  emo*! 
tional  mood.  We  have  no  right,  therefore,  to  invoke  its 
prestige  as  distinctively  in  favor  of  any  special  belief,  such } 
as  that  in  absolute  idealism,  or  in  the  absolute  monistic  I 
identity,  or  in  the  absolute  goodness,  of  the  world.  It ' 
is  only  relatively  in  favor  of  all  these  things  — it  passes  I 
out  of  common  human  consciousness  in  the  direction  in 
which  they  lie. 

So  much  for  rehgious  mysticism  proper.  But  more 
remains  to  be  told,  for  religious  mysticism  is  onlj?  one 
half  of  mysticism.  The  other  half  has  no  accumulated 
traditions  except  those  which  the  text-books  on  insanity 
supply.  Open  any  one  of  these,  and  you  will  find  abun- 
dant cases  in  which  ‘ mystical  ideas  ’ are  cited  as  character-, 
fistic  symptoms  of  enfeebled  or  deluded  states  of  mind." 
In  delusional  insanity,  paranoia,  as  they  sometimes  call  it,  I 
we  may  have  a diabolical  mysticism,  a sort  of  rehgious^ 
mysticism  turned  upside  down.  The  same  sense  of  in- 
effable importance  in  the  smallest  events,  the  same  texts  ; 
and  words  coming  with  new  meanings,  the  same  voices 
and  visions  and  leadings  and  missions,  the  same  controlling ; 
by  extraneous  powers ; only  this  time  the  emotion  is  pes- 
simistic : instead  of  consolations  we  have  desolations ; the " 
meanings  are  dreadful ; and  the  powers  are  enemies  to| 
life.  It  is  evident  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  their 
psychological  mechanism,  the  classic  mysticism  and  these 
lower  mysticisms  spring  from  the  same  mental  level,  from 
that  great  subhminal  or  transmarginal  region  of  which  ^ 
science  is  beginning  to  admit  the  existence,  hut  of  which 
so  little  is  really  known.  That  region  contains  every^ 
kind  of  matter  : ‘ seraph  and  snake  ’ abide  there  side  by, 
side.  To  come  from  thence  is  no  infallible  credential,! 
What  comes  must  be  sifted  and  tested,  and  run  the  gaunt-| 
let  of  confrontation  with  the  total  context  of  experience,' 


V 


MYSTICISM 


427 


just  like  what  comes  from  the  outer  world  of  sense.  Its 
value  must  be  ascertained  by  empirical  methods,  so  long 
as  we  are  not  mystics  ourselves. 

Once  more,  then,  I repeat  that  non-mystics  are  under 
no  obligation  to  acknowledge  in  mystical  states  a superior 
authority  conferred  on  them  by  their  intrinsic  nature.^ 

3. 

Yet,  I repeat  once  more,  the  existence  of  mystical 
states  absolutely  overthrows  the  pretension  of  non-mysti- 
cal  states  to  be  the  sole  and  ultimate  dictators  of  what 
we  may  believe.  As  a rule,  mystical  states  merely  add  a 
supersensuous  meaning  to  the  ordinary  outward  data  of 
consciousness.  They  are  excitements  like  the  emotions 
of  love  or  ambition,  gifts  to  our  spirit  by  means  of  which 
facts  already  objectively  before  us  fall  into  a new  expres- 
siveness and  make  a new  connection  with  our  active  life. 
They  do  not  contradict  these  facts  as  such,  or  deny  any- 
thing that  our  senses  have  immediately  seized.^  It  is  the 
rationalistic  critic  rather  who  plays  the  part  of  denier  in 

^ In  chapter  i.  of  book  ii.  of  his  work  Degeneration,  ‘Max  Nordau’ 
seeks  to  undermine  all  mysticism  by  exposing  the  weakness  of  the  lower 
kinds.  Mysticism  for  him  means  any  sudden  perception  of  hidden  signifi- 
cance in  things.  He  explains  such  perception  by  the  abundant  uncompleted 
associations  which  experiences  may  arouse  in  a degenerate  brain.  These 
give  to  him  who  has  the  experience  a vague  and  vast  sense  of  its  leading 
further,  yet  they  awaken  no  definite  or  useful  consequent  in  his  thought. 
The  explanation  is  a plausible  one  for  certain  sorts  of  feeling  of  signifi- 
cance ; and  other  alienists  (Wernicke,  for  example,  in  his  Grundriss  der 
Psychiatrie,  Theil  ii.,  Leipzig,  1896)  have  explained  ‘ paranoiac  ’ conditions 
by  a laming  of  the  association-organ.  But  the  higher  mystical  flights,  with 
their  positiveness  and  abruptness,  are  surely  products  of  no  such  merely 
negative  condition.  It  seems  far  more  reasonable  to  ascribe  them  to  inroads 
from  the  subconscious  life,  of  the  cerebral  activity  correlative  to  which 
we  as  yet  know  nothing. 

^ They  sometimes  add  subjective  audita  et  vhsa  to  the  facts,  but  as  these 
are  usually  interpreted  as  transmundane,  they  oblige  no  alteration  in  the 
facts  of  sense. 


428  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

the  controversy,  and  his  denials  have  no  strength,  for 
there  never  can  be  a state  of  facts  to  which  new  meaning 
may  not  truthfully  be  added,  provided  the  mind  ascend  to 
a more  enveloping  point  of  view.  It  must  always  remain 
an  open  question  whether  mystical  states  may  not  possi- 
bly be  such  superior  points  of  view,  windows  through 
which  the  mind  looks  out  upon  a more  extensive  and 
inclusive  world.  The  difference  of  the  views  seen  from 
the  different  mystical  windows  need  not  prevent  us  from 
entertaining  this  supposition.  The  wider  world  would  in 
that  case  prove  to  have  a mixed  constitution  like  that  of 
this  world,  that  is  all.  It  would  have  its  celestial  and  its 
infernal  regions,  its  tempting  and  its  saving  moments, 
its  valid  experiences  and  its  counterfeit  ones,  just  as  our 
world  has  them ; but  it  would  be  a wider  world  all  the 
same.  W e should  have  to  use  its  experiences  by  selecting 
and  subordinating  and  substituting  just  as  is  our  custom 
in  this  ordinary  naturalistic  world ; we  should  be  liable  to 
error  just  as  we  are  now ; yet  the  counting  in  of  that 
wider  world  of  meanings,  and  the  serious  dealing  with 
it,  might,  in  spite  of  all  the  perplexity,  be  indispensable 
stages  in  our  approach  to  the  final  fullness  of  the  truth. 

In  this  shape,  I think,  we  have  to  leave  the  subject. 
Mystical  states  indeed  wield  no  authority  due  simply  to 
their  being  mystical  states.  But  the  higher  ones  among 
them  point  in  directions  to  which  the  religious  senti- 
ments even  of  non-mystical  men  incline.  They  tell  of  the 
supremacy  of  the  ideal,  of  vastness,  of  union,  of  safety, 
and  of  rest.  They  offer  us  hypotheses,  hypotheses  which 
we  may  voluntarily  ignore,  but  which  as  thinkers  we  can- 
not possibly  upset.  The  supernaturalism  and  optimism 
to  which  they  would  persuade  us  may,  interpreted  in  one 
way  or  another,  be  after  all  the  truest  of  insights  into  the 
meaning  of  this  life. 


MYSTICISM 


429 


Oh,  the  little  more,  and  how  much  it  is ; and  the  little 
, less,  and  what  worlds  away ! ” It  may  be  that  possi- 
‘ bility  and  permission  of  this  sort  are  all  that  the  religious 
, consciousness  requires  to  live  on.  In  my  last  lecture  I 
: shall  have  to  try  to  persuade  you  that  this  is  the  case. 

, Meanwhile,  however,  I am  sure  that  for  many  of  my 
i readers  this  diet  is  too  slender.  If  supernaturahsm  and 
: inner  union  with  the  divine  are  true,  you  think,  then  not 
so  much  permission,  as  compulsion  to  believe,  ought  to 
^be  found.  Philosophy  has  always  professed  to  prove 
1 religious  truth  by  coercive  argument ; and  the  construc- 
tion of  philosophies  of  this  kind  has  always  been  one 
favorite  function  of  the  religious  life,  if  we  use  this  term 
in  the  large  historic  sense.  But  religious  philosophy  is 
an  enormous  subject,  and  in  my  next  lecture  I can  only 
[ give  that  brief  glance  at  it  which  my  limits  will  allow. 


LECTURE  XVIII 


PHILOSOPHY 

The  subject  of  Saintliness  left  us  face  to  face  with 
the  question,  Is  the  sense  of  divine  presence  a 
sense  of  anything  objectively  true?  We  turned  first  to 
mysticism  for  an  answer,  and  found  that  although  mys- 
ticism is  entirely  wdhng  to  corroborate  religion,  it  is  too 
private  (and  also  too  various)  in  its  utterances  to  be  able 
to  claim  a universal  authority.  But  philosophy  pub- 
lishes results  which  claim  to  be  universally  valid  if  they 
are  valid  at  all,  so  we  now  turn  with  our  question  to 
philosophy.  Can  philosophy  stamp  a warrant  of  veracity 
upon  the  religious  man’s  sense  of  the  divine  ? 

I imagine  that  many  of  you  at  this  point  begin  to 
indulge  in  guesses  at  the  goal  to  which  I am  tending.  I 
have  undermined  the  authority  of  mysticism,  you  say, 
and  the  next  thing  I shall  probably  do  is  to  seek  to  dis- 
credit that  of  philosophy.  Religion,  you  expect  to  hear 
me  conclude,  is  nothing  but  an  affair  of  faith,  based 
either  on  vague  sentiment,  or  on  that  vivid  sense  of  the 
reahty  of  things  unseen  of  which  in  my  second  lecture 
and  in  the  lecture  on  Mysticism  I gave  so  many  examples. 
It  is  essentially  private  and  individualistic ; it  always 
exceeds  our  powers  of  formulation ; and  although  at- 
tempts to  pour  its  contents  into  a philosophic  mould  will 
probably  always  go  on,  men  being  what  they  are,  yet 
these  attempts  are  always  secondary  processes  which  in 
no  way  add  to  the  authority,  or  warrant  the  veracity,  of 
the  sentiments  from  which  they  derive  their  own  stimulus 


PHILOSOPHY 


431 


and  borrow  whatever  glow  of  conviction  they  may  them- 
selves possess.  In  short,  you  suspect  that  I am  planning 
to  defend  feeling  at  the  expense  of  reason,  to  rehabilitate 
the  primitive  and  unreflective,  and  to  dissuade  you  from 
the  hope  of  any  Theology  worthy  of  the  name. 

To  a certain  extent  I have  to  admit  that  you  guess 
rightly.  I do  believe  that  feehng  is  the  deeper  source  of 
religion,  and  that  philosophic  and  theological  formulas 
are  secondary  products,  like  translations  of  a text  into 
another  tongue.  But  all  such  statements  are  misleading 
from  their  brevity,  and  it  will  take  the  whole  hour  for 
me  to  explain  to  you  exactly  what  I mean. 

When  I call  theological  formulas  secondary  products, 
I mean  that  in  a world  in  which  no  religious  feeling  had 
ever  existed,  I doubt  whether  any  philosophic  theology 
could  ever  have  been  framed.  I doubt  if  dispassionate 
intellectual  contemplation  of  the  universe,  apart  from 
inner  unhappiness  and  need  of  dehverance  on  the  one 
hand  and  mystical  emotion  on  the  other,  would  ever  have 
resulted  in  religious  philosophies  such  as  we  now  possess. 
Men  would  have  begun  with  animistic  explanations  of 
natural  fact,  and  criticised  these  away  into  scientific 
ones,  as  they  actually  have  done.  In  the  science  they 
would  have  left  a certain  amount  of  ‘ psychical  research,’ 
even  as  they  now  will  probably  have  to  re-admit  a cer- 
tain amount.  But  high-flying  speculations  Hke  those  of 
either  dogmatic  or  ideahstic  theology,  these  they  would 
have  had  no  motive  to  venture  on,  feehng  no  need  of 
commerce  with  such  deities.  These  speculations  must, 
it  seems  to  me,  be  classed  as  over-beliefs,  buildings-out 
performed  by  the  intellect  into  directions  of  which  feel- 
ing originally  supplied  the  hint. 

But  even  if  rehgious  philosophy  had  to  have  its  first 
hint  supphed  by  feeling,  may  it  not  have  dealt  in  a supe* 


432  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


rior  way  with  the  matter  which  feeling  suggested  ? Feeh 
ing  is  private  and  dumb,  and  unable  to  give  an  account  of 
itself.  It  allows  that  its  results  are  mysteries  and  enig- 
mas, declines  to  justify  them  rationally,  and  on  occasion 
is  willing  that  they  should  even  pass  for  paradoxical  and 
absurd.  Philosophy  takes  just  the  opposite  attitude. 
Her  aspiration  is  to  reclaim  from  mystery  and  paradox 
whatever  territory  she  touches.  To  find  an  escape  from 
obscure  and  wayward  personal  persuasion  to  truth  objec- 
tively vahd  for  all  thinking  men  has  ever  been  the  intel- 
lect’s most  cherished  ideal.  To  redeem  religion  from 
unwholesome  privacy,  and  to  give  public  status  and  uni- 
versal right  of  way  to  its  deliverances,  has  been  reason’s 
task. 

I beheve  that  philosophy  wiU  always  have  opportunity 
to  labor  at  this  task.^  We  are  thinking  beings,  and  we 
cannot  exclude  the  intellect  from  participating  in  any  of 
our  functions.  Even  in  soliloquizing  with  ourselves,  we 
construe  our  feelings  intellectually.  Both  our  personal 
ideals  and  our  religious  and  mystical  experiences  must 
be  interpreted  congruously  with  the  kind  of  scenery 
which  our  thinking  mind  inhabits.  The  philosophic 
climate  of  our  time  inevitably  forces  its  own  clothing  on 
us.  Moreover,  we  must  exchange  our  feelings  with  one 
another,  and  in  doing  so  we  have  to  speak,  and  to  use 
general  and  abstract  verbal  formulas.  Conceptions  and 
constructions  are  thus  a necessary  part  of  our  religion ; 
and  as  moderator  amid  the  clash  of  hypotheses,  and 
mediator  among  the  criticisms  of  one  man’s  constructions 
by  another,  philosophy  will  always  have  much  to  do.  It 
would  be  strange  if  I disputed  this,  when  these  very  lec- 
tures which  I am  giving  are  (as  you  will  see  more  clearly 

^ Compare  Professor  W.  Wallace’s  Gifford  Lectures,  in  Lectures  and 
Essays,  Oxford.  1898,  pp.  17  £E. 


PHILOSOPHY 


433 


ftom  now  onwards)  a laborious  attempt  to  extract  from 
the  privacies  of  religious  experience  some  general  facts 
which  can  be  defined  in  formulas  upon  which  everybody 
may  agree. 

Religious  experience,  in  other  words,  spontaneously 
and  inevitably  engenders  myths,  superstitions,  dogmas, 
creeds,  and  metaphysical  theologies,  and  criticisms  of 
one  set  of  these  by  the  adherents  of  another.  Of  late, 
impartial  classifications  and  comparisons  have  become 
possible,  alongside  of  the  denunciations  and  anathemas 
by  which  the  commerce  between  creeds  used  exclusively 
to  be  carried  on.  W e have  the  beginnings  of  a ‘ Science 
of  Religions,’  so-called;  and  if  these  lectures  could  ever 
be  accounted  a crumb-like  contribution  to  such  a science, 
I should  be  made  very  happy. 

But  all  these  intellectual  operations,  whether  they 
be  constructive  or  comparative  and  critical,  presuppose 
immediate  experiences  as  their  subject-matter.  They 
are  interpretative  and  inductive  operations,  operations 
after  the  fact,  consequent  upon  religious  feehng,  not 
coordinate  with  it,  not  independent  of  what  it  ascertains. 

The  intellectualism  in  religion  which  I wish  to  dis- 
credit pretends  to  be  something  altogether  different  from 
this.  It  assumes  to  construct  rehgious  objects  out  of 
the  resources  of  logical  reason  alone,  or  of  logical  reason 
drawing  rigorous  inference  from  non-sub jective  facts.  It 
calls  its  conclusions  dogmatic  theology,  or  philosophy  of 
the  absolute,  as  the  case  may  be ; it  does  not  call  them 
science  of  religions.  It  reaches  them  in  an  a priori  way, 
and  warrants  their  veracity. 

W arranted  systems  have  ever  been  the  idols  of  aspiring 
souls.  All-inclusive,  yet  simple ; noble,  clean,  luminous, 
stable,  rigorous,  true ; — what  more  ideal  refuge  could 


434  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


there  be  than  such  a system  would  offer  to  spirits  vexed 
by  the  muddiness  and  accidentality  of  the  world  of  sensi- 
ble things  ? Accordingly,  we  find  inculcated  in  the  the- 
ological schools  of  to-day,  almost  as  much  as  in  those 
of  the  fore-time,  a disdain  for  merely  possible  or  prob- 
able truth,  and  of  results  that  only  private  assurance 
can  grasp.  Scholastics  and  idealists  both  express  this 
disdain.  Principal  John  Caird,  for  example,  writes  as 
follows  in  his  Introduction  to  the  Philosophy  of  Reli- 
gion : — 

“ Religion  must  indeed  be  a thing  of  the  heart ; but  in  order 
to  elevate  it  from  the  region  of  subjective  caprice  and  way- 
wardness, and  to  distinguish  between  that  which  is  true  and 
false  in  religion,  we  must  appeal  to  an  objective  standard.  That 
which  enters  the  heart  must  first  be  discerned  by  the  intelli- 
gence to  be  true.  It  must  be  seen  as  having  in  its  own  nature 
a right  to  dominate  feeling,  and  as  constituting  the  principle 
by  which  feeling  must  be  judged.^  In  estimating  the  religious 
character  of  individuals,  nations,  or  races,  the  first  question  is, 
not  how  they  feel,  but  what  they  think  and  believe  — not 
whether  their  religion  is  one  which  manifests  itself  in  emotions, 
more  or  less  vehement  and  enthusiastic,  but  what  are  the  con- 
ce'ptions  of  God  and  divine  things  by  which  these  emotions  are 
called  forth.  Feeling  is  necessary  in  religion,  but  it  is  by  the 
content  or  intelligent  basis  of  a religion,  and  not  by  feeling, 
that  its  character  and  worth  are  to  be  determined.”  ^ 

Cardinal  Newman,  in  bis  work.  The  Idea  of  a University, 
gives  more  emphatic  expression  still  to  this  disdain  for 
sentiment.®  Theology,  he  says,  is  a science  in  the  strict- 
est sense  of  the  word.  I will  tell  you,  he  says,  what  it  is 
not  — ■ not  ‘ physical  evidences  ’ for  God,  not  ‘ natural 
religion,’  for  these  are  but  vague  subjective  interpreta- 
tions : — 

* Op.  cit.,  p.  174,  abridged. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  186,  abridged  and  italicized. 

® Discourse  II.  § 7. 


PHILOSOPHY 


435 


If,”  he  continues,  “ the  Supreme  Being  is  powerful  or  skill- 
ful, just  so  far  as  the  telescope  shows  power,  or  the  microscope 
shows  skill,  if  his  moral  law  is  to  be  ascertained  simply  by  the 
physical  processes  of  the  animal  frame,  or  his  will  gathered 
from  the  immediate  issues  of  human  affairs,  if  his  Essence  is 
just  as  high  and  deep  and  broad  as  the  universe  and  no  more ; 
if  this  be  the  fact,  then  will  I confess  that  there  is  no  specific 
science  about  God,  that  theology  is  but  a name,  and  a protest 
in  its  behalf  an  hypocrisy.  Then,  pious  as  it  is  to  think  of 
Him,  while  the  pageant  of  experiment  or  abstract  reasoning 
passes  by,  still  such  piety  is  nothing  more  than  a poetry  of 
thought,  or  an  ornament  of  language,  a certain  view  taken  of 
Nature  which  one  man  has  and  another  has  not,  which  gifted 
minds  strike  out,  which  others  see  to  be  admirable  and  ingen- 
ious, and  which  all  would  be  the  better  for  adopting.  It  is  but 
the  theology  of  Nature,  just  as  we  talk  of  the  philosophy  or 
the  romance,  of  history,  or  the  poetry  of  childhood,  or  the  pic- 
turesque or  the  sentimental  or  the  humorous,  or  any  other  ab- 
stract quality  which  the  genius  or  the  caprice  of  the  individual, 
or  the  fashion  of  the  day,  or  the  consent  of  the  world,  recog- 
nizes in  any  set  of  objects  which  are  subjected  to  its  contempla- 
tion. I do  not  see  much  difference  between  avowing  that  there 
is  no  God,  and  implying  that  nothing  definite  can  be  known 
for  certain  about  Him.” 

What  I mean  by  Theology,  continues  Newman,  is  none  of 
these  things ; “ I simply  mean  the  Science  of  God,  or  the  truths 
we  know  about  God,  put  into  a system,  just  as  we  have  a sci- 
ence of  the  stars  and  call  it  astronomy,  or  of  the  crust  of  the 
earth  and  call  it  geology.” 

In  both  these  extracts  we  have  the  issue  clearly  set 
before  us  : Feeling  valid  only  for  the  individual  is  pitted 
against  reason  valid  universally.  The  test  is  a perfectly 
plain  one  of  fact.  Theology  based  on  pure  reason  must 
in  point  of  fact  convince  men  universally.  If  it  did  not, 
wherein  would  its  superiority  consist?  If  it  only  formed 
sects  and  schools,  even  as  sentiment  and  mysticism  form 
them,  how  would  it  fulfill  its  programme  of  freeing  us 


436  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


from  personal  caprice  and  waywardness  ? This  perfectly 
definite  practical  test  of  the  pretensions  of  philosophy 
to  found  religion  on  universal  reason  simplifies  my  pro- 
cedure to-day.  I need  not  discredit  philosophy  by  laborh 
ous  criticism  of  its  arguments.  It  will  suffice  if  I show 
that  as  a matter  of  history  it  fads  to  prove  its  pretension 
to  be  ‘ objectively  ’ convincing.  In  fact,  philosophy  does 
so  fail.  It  does  not  banish  differences  ; it  founds  schools 
and  sects  just  as  feeling  does.  I believe,  in  fact,  that 
the  logical  reason  of  man  operates  in  this  field  of  divinity 
exactly  as  it  has  always  operated  in  love,  or  in  patriotism, 
or  in  politics,  or  in  any  other  of  the  wider  affairs  of  life, 
in  which  our  passions  or  our  mystical  intuitions  fix  our 
beliefs  beforehand.  It  finds  arguments  for  our  convic’ 
tion,  for  indeed  it  has  to  find  them.  It  amplifies  and 
defines  our  faith,  and  dignifies  it  and  lends  it  words  and 
plausibility.  It  hardly  ever  engenders  it ; it  cannot  now 
secure  it.^ 

Lend  me  your  attention  while  I run  through  some  of 
the  points  of  the  older  systematic  theology.  You  find 
them  in  both  Protestant  and  Catholic  manuals,  best  of  all 
in  the  innumerable  text-books  published  since  Pope  Leo’s 
Encyclical  recommending  the  study  of  Saint  Thomas. 
I glance  first  at  the  arguments  by  which  dogmatic  the- 

’ As  regards  the  secondary  character  of  intellectual  constructions,  and 
the  primacy  of  feeling  and  instinct  in  founding  religious  beliefs,  see  the 
striking  work  of  H.  Fielding,  The  Hearts  of  Men,  London,  1902,  which 
came  into  my  hands  after  my  text  was  written.  “ Creeds,”  says  the  author, 
“are  the  grammar  of  religion,  they  are  to  religion  what  grammar  is  to 
speech.  Words  are  the  expression  of  our  wants  ; grammar  is  the  theory 
formed  afterwards.  Speech  never  proceeded  from  grammar,  but  the  re- 
verse. As  speech  progresses  and  changes  from  unknown  causes,  grammar 
must  follow  ” (p.  313).  The  whole  book,  which  keeps  unusually  close  to 
concrete  facts,  is  little  more  than  an  amplification  of  this  text. 


PHILOSOPHY 


437 


oiogy  establishes  God’s  existence,  after  that  at  those  by 
which  it  establishes  his  nature.^ 

The  arguments  for  God’s  existence  have  stood  for 
hundreds  of  years  with  the  waves  of  unbelieving  criti- 
cism breaking  against  them,  never  totally  discrediting 
them  in  the  ears  of  the  faithful,  but  on  the  whole  slowly 
and  surely  washing  out  the  mortar  from  between  their 
joints.  If  you  have  a God  already  whom  you  beheve  in, 
these  arguments  confirm  you.  If  you  are  atheistic,  they 
fad  to  set  you  right.  The  proofs  are  various.  The  ‘ cos- 
mological ’ one,  so-caUed,  reasons  from  the  contingence  of 
the  world  to  a First  Cause  which  must  contain  whatever 
perfections  the  world  itself  contains.  The  ‘ argument 
from  design  ’ reasons,  from  the  fact  that  Nature’s  laws  are 
mathematical,  and  her  parts  benevolently  adapted  to  each 
other,  that  this  cause  is  both  intellectual  and  benevolent. 
The  ‘ moral  argnment  ’ is  that  the  moral  law  presupposes  a 
lawgiver.  The  ‘ argument  ex  consensu  gentium  ’ is  that 
the  belief  in  God  is  so  widespread  as  to  be  grounded  in 
the  rational  nature  of  man,  and  should  therefore  carry 
authority  with  it. 

As  I just  said,  I wiU  not  discuss  these  arguments  tech- 
nically. The  bare  fact  that  aU  idealists  since  Kant  have 
felt  entitled  either  to  scout  or  to  neglect  them  show  s that 
they  are  not  solid  enough  to  serve  as  religion’s  aU-suffi- 
cient  foundation.  Absolutely  impersonal  reasons  wonld 
be  in  duty  bound  to  show  more  general  convincingness. 
Causation  is  indeed  too  obscure  a principle  to  bear  the 
weight  of  the  whole  structure  of  theology.  As  for  the 

^ For  convenience’  sake,  I follow  the  order  of  A.  Stockl’s  Lehrbuch  der 
Philosophie,  5te  Auflage,  Mainz,  1881,  Band  ii.  B.  Boedder’s  Natural 
Theology,  London,  1891,  is  a handy  English  Catholic  Manual ; but  an 
almost  identical  doctrine  is  given  by  such  Protestant  theologians  as  C. 
Hodge  : Systematic  Theology,  New  York,  1873,  or  A.  H.  Strong  : Syste- 
matic Theology,  5th  edition.  New  York,  1896. 


438 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


argument  from  design,  see  how  Darwinian  ideas  have 
revolutionized  it.  Conceived  as  we  now  conceive  them, 
as  so  many  fortunate  escapes  from  almost  limitless  pro- 
cesses of  destruction,  the  benevolent  adaptations  which 
we  find  in  Nature  suggest  a deity  very  different  from  the 
one  who  figured  in  the  earher  versions  of  the  argument.^ 

^ It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  any  form  of  disorder  in  the  world  might, 
hy  the  design  argument,  suggest  a God  for  just  that  kind  of  disorder.  The 
truth  is  that  any  state  of  things  whatever  that  cau  he  named  is  logically 
susceptible  of  teleological  interpretation.  The  ruins  of  the  earthquake  at 
Lisbon,  for  example  : the  whole  of  past  history  had  to  be  planned  exactly 
as  it  was  to  bring  about  in  the  fullness  of  time  just  that  particular  arrange- 
ment of  ddbris  of  masonry,  furniture,  and  once  living  bodies.  No  other 
train  of  causes  would  have  been  sufficient.  And  so  of  any  other  arrange- 
ment, bad  or  good,  which  might  as  a matter  of  fact  be  found  resulting  any- 
where from  previous  conditions.  To  avoid  such  pessimistic  consequences 
and  save  its  beneficent  designer,  the  design  argument  accordingly  invokes 
two  other  principles,  restrictive  in  their  operation.  The  first  is  physical  : 
Nature’s  forces  tend  of  their  own  accord  only  to  disorder  and  destruction, 
to  heaps  of  ruins,  not  to  architecture.  This  principle,  though  plausible  at 
first  sight,  seems,  in  the  light  of  recent  biology,  to  be  more  and  more  im- 
probable. The  second  principle  is  one  of  anthropomorphic  interpretation. 
No  arrangement  that  for  us  is  • disorderly  ’ can  possibly  have  been  an  object 
of  design  at  all.  This  principle  is  of  course  a mere  assumption  in  the 
interests  of  anthropomorphic  Theism. 

When  one  views  the  world  with  no  definite  theological  bias  one  way  or 
the  other,  one  sees  that  order  and  disorder,  as  we  now  recognize  them,  are 
purely  human  inventions.  We  are  interested  in  certain  types  of  arrange- 
ment, useful,  aesthetic,  or  moral,  — so  interested  that  whenever  we  find 
them  realized,  the  fact  emphatically  rivets  our  attention.  The  result  is 
that  we  work  over  the  contents  of  the  world  selectively.  It  is  overflowing 
with  disorderly  arrangements  from  our  point  of  view,  but  order  is  the 
only  thing  we  care  for  and  look  at,  and  by  choosing,  one  cau  always  find 
some  sort  of  orderly  arrangement  in  the  midst  of  any  chaos.  If  I should 
throw  down  a thousand  beans  at  random  upon  a table,  I could  doubtless, 
by  eliminating  a sufficient  number  of  them,  leave  the  rest  in  almost  any 
geometrical  pattern  you  might  propose  to  me,  and  you  might  then  say  that 
that  pattern  was  the  thing  prefigured  beforehand,  and  that  the  other  beans 
were  mere  irrelevance  and  packing  material.  Our  dealings  with  Nature 
are  just  like  this.  She  is  a vast  plenum  in  which  our  attention  draws  capri- 
cious lines  in  innumerable  directions.  We  count  and  name  whatever  lies 
upon  the  special  lines  we  trace,  whilst  the  other  things  and  the  untraced  lines 
are  neither  named  nor  counted.  There  are  in  reality  infinitely  more  things 


PHILOSOPHY 


439 


The  fact  is  that  these  arguments  do  but  follow  the  com- 
bined suggestions  of  the  facts  and  of  our  feeling.  They 
prove  nothing  rigorously.  They  only  corroborate  our  pre- 
existent partialities. 

If  philosophy  can  do  so  little  to  establish  God’s  exist- 
ence, how  stands  it  with  her  efforts  to  define  his  attri- 
butes? It  is  worth  while  to  look  at  the  attempts  of 
systematic  theology  in  this  direction. 

Since  God  is  First  Cause,  this  science  of  sciences  says,  he 
differs  from  all  his  creatures  in  possessing  existence  a se. 
From  this  ‘ a-se-ity  ’ on  God’s  part,  theology  deduces  by  mere 
logic  most  of  his  other  perfections.  For  instance,  he  must  be 
both  necessary  and  absolute^  cannot  not  be,  and  cannot  in  any 
way  be  determined  by  anything  else.  This  makes  Him  abso- 
lutely unlimited  from  without,  and  unlimited  also  from  within  ] 
for  limitation  is  non-being ; and  God  is  being  itself.  This  un- 
limitedness makes  God  infinitely  perfect.  Moreover,  God  is 
One,  and  Only,  for  the  infinitely  perfect  can  admit  no  peer. 
He  is  Spiritual,  for  were  He  composed  of  physical  parts,  some 
other  power  would  have  to  combine  them  into  the  total,  and 
his  aseity  would  thus  be  contradicted.  He  is  therefore  both 
simple  and  non-physical  in  nature.  He  is  simple  metaphysi- 
cally also,  that  is  to  say,  his  nature  and  his  existence  can- 

‘ unadapted  ’ to  each  other  in  this  world  than  there  are  things  ‘ adapted  ’ ; 
infinitely  more  things  with  irregular  relations  than  with  regular  relations 
between  them.  But  we  look  for  the  regular  kind  of  thing  exclusively,  and 
ingeniously  discover  and  preserve  it  in  our  memory.  It  accumulates  with 
other  regular  kinds,  until  the  collection  of  them  fills  our  encyclopEedias.  Yet 
all  the  while  between  and  around  them  lies  an  infinite  anonymous  chaos 
of  objects  that  no  one  ever  thought  of  together,  of  relations  that  never  yet 
attracted  our  attention. 

The  facts  of  order  from  which  the  physico-theological  argument  starts 
are  thus  easily  susceptible  of  interpretation  as  arbitrary  human  products. 
So  long  as  this  is  the  case,  although  of  course  no  argument  against  God  fol- 
lows, it  follows  that  the  argument  for  him  will  fail  to  constitute  a knock- 
down proof  of  his  existence.  It  will  be  convincing  only  to  those  who  on 
other  grounds  believe  in  him  already. 


440 


THE  VAMETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


not  be  distinct,  as  they  are  in  finite  substances  which  share 
their  formal  natures  with  one  another,  and  are  individual  only 
in  their  material  aspect.  Since  God  is  one  and  only,  his  essen- 
tia and  his  esse  must  be  given  at  one  stroke.  This  excludes 
from  his  being  all  those  distinctions,  so  familiar  in  the  world 
of  finite  things,  between  potentiality  and  actuality,  substance 
and  accidents,  being  and  activity,  existence  and  attributes. 
We  can  talk,  it  is  true,  of  God’s  powers,  acts,  and  attributes, 
but  these  discriminations  are  only  ‘ virtual,’  and  made  from 
the  human  point  of  view.  In  God  all  these  points  of  view  fall 
into  an  absolute  identity  of  being. 

This  absence  of  all  potentiality  in  God  obliges  Him  to  be 
immutable.  He  is  actuality,  through  and  through.  Were  there 
anything  potential  about  Him,  He  would  either  lose  or  gain  by 
its  actualization,  and  either  loss  or  gain  would  contradict  his 
perfection.  He  cannot,  therefore,  change.  Furthermore,  He  is 
immense,  boundless ; for  could  He  be  outlined  in  space.  He 
would  be  composite,  and  this  would  contradict  his  indivisibility. 
He  is  therefore  omnipresent,  indivisibly  there,  at  every  point 
of  space.  He  is  similarly  wholly  present  at  every  point  of  time, 
— in  other  words  eternal.  For  if  He  began  in  time.  He  would 
need  a prior  cause,  and  that  would  contradict  his  aseity.  If  He 
ended,  it  would  contradict  his  necessity.  If  He  went  through 
any  succession,  it  would  contradict  his  immutability. 

He  has  intelligence  and  will  and  every  other  creature-perfec- 
tion, for  we  have  them,  and  effectus  nequit  superare  causairh. 
In  Him,  however,  they  are  absolutely  and  eternally  in  act, 
and  their  object,  since  God  can  be  bounded  by  naught  that  is 
external,  can  primarily  be  nothing  else  than  God  himself. 
He  knows  himself,  then,  in  one  eternal  indivisible  act,  and 
wills  himself  with  an  infinite  self-pleasure.^  Since  He  must 
of  logical  necessity  thus  love  and  will  himself.  He  cannot  be 
called  ‘ free  ’ ad  intra,  with  the  freedom  of  contrarieties  that 
characterizes  finite  creatures.  Ad  extra,  however,  or  with  re- 
spect to  his  creation,  God  is  free.  He  cannot  need  to  create, 
being  perfect  in  being  and  in  happiness  already.  He  wills  to 
create,  then,  by  an  absolute  freedom. 

^ For  the  scholastics  the  facultas  appetendi  embraces  feeling,  desire,  and 
wdL 


PHILOSOPHY 


441 


Being  thus  a substance  endowed  with  intellect  and  will  and 
rreedom,  God  is  a person  ; and  a lining  person  also,  for  He  is 
both  object  and  subject  of  his  own  activity,  and  to  be  this  dis- 
tinguishes the  living  from  the  lifeless.  He  is  thus  absolutely 
self-sufficient : his  self-hnowledge  and  self-love  are  both  of  them 
infinite  and  adequate,  and  need  no  extraneous  conditions  to 
perfect  them. 

He  is  omniscient,  for  in  knowing  himself  as  Cause  He  knov/s 
all  creature  things  and  events  by  implication.  His  knowledge 
is  previsive,  for  He  is  present  to  all  time.  Even  our  free  acts 
are  known  beforehand  to  Him,  for  otherwise  his  wisdom  would 
admit  of  successive  moments  of  enrichment,  and  this  would 
contradict  his  immutability.  He  is  omnipotent  for  everything 
that  does  not  involve  logical  contradiction.  He  can  make  being 
— in  other  words  his  power  includes  creation.  If  what  He 
creates  were  made  of  his  own  substance,  it  would  have  to  be 
infinite  in  essence,  as  that  substance  is ; but  it  is  finite ; so  it 
must  be  non-divine  in  substance.  If  it  were  made  of  a sub- 
stance, an  eternally  existing  matter,  for  example,  which  God 
found  there  to  his  hand,  and  to  which  He  simply  gave  its  form, 
that  would  contradict  God’s  definition  as  First  Cause,  and  make 
Him  a mere  mover  of  something  caused  already.  The  things 
he  creates,  then.  He  creates  ex  nihilo,  and  gives  them  absolute 
being  as  so  many  finite  substances  additional  to  himself.  The 
forms  which  he  imprints  upon  them  have  their  prototypes  in 
his  ideas.  But  as  in  God  there  is  no  such  thing  as  multipli- 
city, and  as  these  ideas  for  us  are  manifold,  we  must  distinguish 
the  ideas  as  they  are  in  God  and  the  way  in  which  our  minds 
externally  imitate  them.  We  must  attribute  them  to  Him  only 
in  a terminative  sense,  as  differing  aspects,  from  the  finite  point 
of  view,  of  his  unique  essence. 

God  of  course  is  holy,  good,  and  just.  He  can  do  no  evil, 
for  He  is  positive  being’s  fullness,  and  evil  is  negation.  It  is 
true  that  He  has  created  physical  evil  in  places,  but  only  as  a 
means  of  wider  good,  for  bonum  totius  prceeminet  bonum  partis. 
Moral  evil  He  cannot  will,  either  as  end  or  means,  for  that 
would  contradict  his  holiness.  By  creating  free  beings  He 
permits  it  only,  neither  his  justice  nor  his  goodness  obliging 


442  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Him  to  prevent  the  recipients  of  freedom  from  misusing  the 
gift. 

As  regards  God’s  purpose  in  creating,  primarily  it  can  only 
have  been  to  exercise  his  absolute  freedom  by  the  manifesta- 
tion to  others  of  his  glory.  From  this  it  follows  that  the  others 
must  be  rational  beings,  capable  in  the  first  place  of  know- 
ledge, love,  and  honor,  and  in  the  second  place  of  happiness, 
for  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God  is  the  mainspring  of  felicity. 
In  so  far  forth  one  may  say  that  God’s  secondary  purpose  in 
creating  is  love. 

I will  not  weary  you  by  pursuing  these  metaphysical 
determinations  farther,  into  the  mysteries  of  God’s  Trin- 
ity, for  example.  What  I have  given  will  serve  as  a 
specimen  of  the  orthodox  philosophical  theology  of  both 
Catholics  and  Protestants.  Newman,  filled  with  enthu- 
siasm at  God’s  list  of  perfections,  continues  the  passage 
which  I began  to  quote  to  you  by  a couple  of  pages  of  a 
rhetoric  so  magnificent  that  I can  hardly  refrain  from 
adding  them,  in  spite  of  the  inroad  they  would  make 
upon  our  time.^  He  first  enumerates  God’s  attributes 
sonorously,  then  celebrates  his  ownership  of  everything  in 
earth  and  Heaven,  and  the  dependence  of  all  that  hap- 
pens upon  his  permissive  will.  He  gives  us  scholastic  philo- 
sophy ‘ touched  with  emotion,’  and  every  philosophy 
should  be  touched  with  emotion  to  be  rightly  understood. 
Emotionally,  then,  dogmatic  theology  is  worth  something 
to  minds  of  the  type  of  Newman’s.  It  will  aid  us  to 
estimate  what  it  is  worth  intellectually,  if  at  this  point  I 
make  a short  digression. 

What  God  hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asun- 
der. The  Continental  schools  of  philosophy  have  too 
often  overlooked  the  fact  that  man’s  thinking  is  organi- 
cally connected  with  his  conduct.  It  seems  to  me  to  be 
1 Op.  cit.,  Discourse  III.  § 7. 


PHILOSOPHY 


44S 


the  chief  glory  of  English  and  Scottish  thinkers  to  have 
kept  the  organic  connection  in  view.  The  guiding  prin- 
ciple of  British  philosophy  has  in  fact  been  that  every 
difference  must  make  a difference,  every  theoretical  dif- 
ference somewhere  issue  in  a practical  difference,  and 
that  the  best  method  of  discussing  points  of  theory  is 
to  begin  by  ascertaining  what  practical  difference  would 
result  from  one  alternative  or  the  other  being  true. 
What  is  the  particular  truth  in  question  known  as? 
In  what  facts  does  it  result  ? What  is  its  cash-value 
in  terms  of  particular  experience  ? This  is  the  char- 
acteristic English  way  of  taking  up  a question.  In 
this  way,  you  remember,  Locke  takes  up  the  question  of 
personal  identity.  What  you  mean  by  it  is  just  your 
chain  of  particular  memories,  says  he.  That  is  the  only 
concretely  verifiable  part  of  its  significance.  All  further 
ideas  about  it,  such  as  the  oneness  or  manyness  of  the 
spiritual  substance  on  which  it  is  based,  are  therefore 
void  of  intelligible  meaning ; and  propositions  touching 
such  ideas  may  be  indifferently  affirmed  or  denied.  So 
Berkeley  with  his  ‘ matter.’  The  cash-value  of  matter  is 
our  physical  sensations.  That  is  what  it  is  known  as,  aU 
that  we  concretely  verify  of  its  conception.  That,  there- 
fore, is  the  whole  meaning  of  the  term  ‘ matter  ’ — any 
other  pretended  meaning  is  mere  wind  of  words.  Hume 
does  the  same  thing  with  causation.  It  is  known  as 
labitual  antecedence,  and  as  tendency  on  our  part  to  look 
for  something  definite  to  come.  Apart  from  this  practi- 
cal meaning  it  has  no  significance  whatever,  and  books 
about  it  may  be  committed  to  the  flames,  says  Hume. 
Dugald  Stewart  and  Thomas  Brown,  James  Mill,  John 
Mill,  and  Professor  Bain,  have  followed  more  or  less 
consistently  the  same  method ; and  Shadworth  Hodgson 
has  used  the  principle  with  full  explicitness.  When  aU  is 


444  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


said  and  done,  it  was  English  and  Scotch  writers,  and 
not  Kant,  who  introduced  ‘ the  critical  method  ’ into 
philosophy,  the  one  method  fitted  to  make  philosophy  a 
study  worthy  o£  serious  men.  For  what  seriousness  can 
possibly  remain  in  debating  philosophic  propositions  that 
will  never  make  an  appreciable  difference  to  us  in  action  ? 
And  what  could  it  matter,  if  all  propositions  were  practi- 
cally indifferent,  which  of  them  we  should  agree  to  call 
true  or  which  false  ? 

An  American  philosopher  of  eminent  originality,  Mr. 
Charles  Sanders  Peu*ce,  has  rendered  thought  a service  by 
disentangling  from  the  particulars  of  its  application  the 
principle  by  which  these  men  were  instinctively  guided, 
and  by  singling  it  out  as  fundamental  and  giving  to  it  a 
Greek  name.  He  calls  it  the  prmciple  of  pragmatism, 
and  he  defends  it  somewhat  as  follows  : ^ — 

Thought  in  movement  has  for  its  only  conceivable 
motive  the  attainment  of  belief,  or  thought  at  rest.  Only 
when  our  thought  about  a subject  has  found  its  rest  in 
behef  can  our  action  on  the  subject  firmly  and  safely 
begin.  Beliefs,  in  short,  are  rules  for  action  ; and  th( 
whole  function  of  thinking  is  but  one  step  in  the  pro- 
duction of  active  habits.  If  there  were  any  part  of  a 
thought  that  made  no  difference  in  the  thought’s  prac- 
tical consequences,  then  that  part  would  be  no  proper 
element  of  the  thought’s  significance.  To  develop  a 
thought’s  meaning  we  need  therefore  only  determine 
what  conduct  it  is  fitted  to  produce ; that  conduct  is  for 
us  its  sole  significance ; and  the  tangible  fact  at  the  root 
of  all  our  thought-distinctions  is  that  there  is  no  one  of 
them  so  fine  as  to  consist  in  anything  but  a possible  dif- 
ference of  practice.  To  attain  perfect  clearness  in  our 

1 In  an  article,  How  to  make  our  Ideas  Clear,  in  the  Popular  Science 
Monthly  for  January,  1878,  vol.  xii.  p.  286. 


PHILOSOPHY 


445 


thoughts  of  an  object,  we  need  then  only  consider  what 
sensations,  immediate  or  remote,  we  are  conceivably  to 
expect  from  it,  and  what  conduct  we  must  prepare  in  case 
the  object  should  be  true.  Our  conception  of  these  prac- 
tical consequences  is  for  us  the  whole  of  our  conception 
of  the  object,  so  far  as  that  conception  has  positive  sig- 
nificance at  all. 

This  is  the  principle  of  Peirce,  the  principle  of  prag- 
matism. Such  a principle  will  help  us  on  this  occasion 
to  decide,  among  the  various  attributes  set  down  in  the 
scholastic  inventory  of  God’s  perfections,  whether  some 
be  not  far  less  significant  than  others. 

If,  namely,  we  apply  the  principle  of  pragmatism  to 
God’s  metaphysical  attributes,  strictly  so  called,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  his  moral  attributes,  I think  that,  even 
were  we  forced  by  a coercive  logic  to  believe  them,  we 
still  should  have  to  confess  them  to  be  destitute  of  all 
intelligible  significance.  Take  God’s  aseity,  for  example ; 
or  his  necessariness  ; his  immateriality ; his  ‘ simplicity  ’ 
or  superiority  to  the  kind  of  inner  variety  and  succession 
which  we  find  in  finite  beings,  his  indivisibility,  and  lack 
of  the  inner  distinctions  of  being  and  activity,  substance 
and  accident,  potentiality  and  actuality,  and  the  rest; 
his  repudiation  of  inclusion  in  a genus  ; his  actualized 
infinity  ; his  ‘ personality,’  apart  from  the  moral  quali- 
ties which  it  may  comport;  his  relations  to  evil  being 
permissive  and  not  positive ; his  self-sufficiency,  self- 
love,  and  absolute  felicity  in  himself  : — candidly  speak- 
ing, how  do  such  qualities  as  these  make  any  definite 
connection  with  our  life  ? And  if  they  severally  call  for 
no  distinctive  adaptations  of  our  conduct,  what  vital  dif- 
ference can  it  possibly  make  to  a man’s  religion  whether 
they  be  true  or  false? 

For  my  own  part,  although  I dislike  to  say  aught  that 


446  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


may  grate  upon  tender  associations,  I must  frankly  con* 
fess  that  even  though  these  attributes  were  faultlessly 
deduced,  I cannot  conceive  of  its  being  of  the  smallest 
consequence  to  us  rehgiously  that  any  one  of  them 
should  be  true.  Pray,  what  specific  act  can  I perform  in 
order  to  adapt  myself  the  better  to  God’s  simplicity  ? Or 
how  does  it  assist  me  to  plan  my  behavior,  to  know  that 
his  happiness  is  anyhow  absolutely  complete  ? In  the 
middle  of  the  century  just  past,  Mayne  Reid  was  the  great 
writer  of  books  of  out-of-door  adventure.  He  was  forever 
extolling  the  hunters  and  field-observers  of  Hving  ani- 
mals’ habits,  and  keeping  up  a fire  of  invective  against 
the  ‘ closet-naturalists,’  as  he  called  them,  the  collectors 
and  classifiers,  and  handlers  of  skeletons  and  skins. 
When  I was  a boy,  I used  to  think  that  a closet-natural- 
ist must  be  the  vilest  type  of  wretch  under  the  sun. 
But  surely  the  systematic  theologians  are  the  closet- 
naturalists  of  the  deity,  even  in  Captain  Mayne  Reid’s 
sense.  What  is  their  deduction  of  metaphysical  attri- 
butes but  a shuffling  and  matching  of  pedantic  diction- 
ary-adjectives, aloof  from  morals,  aloof  from  human 
needs,  something  that  might  be  worked  out  from  the 
mere  word  ‘ God  ’ by  one  of  those  logical  machines  of 
wood  and  brass  which  recent  ingenuity  has  contrived  as 
well  as  by  a man  of  flesh  and  blood.  They  have  the 
trail  of  the  serpent  over  them.  One  feels  that  in  the 
theologians’  hands,  they  are  only  a set  of  titles  obtained 
by  a mechanical  manipulation  of  synonyms ; verbahty  has 
stepped  into  the  place  of  vision,  professionalism  into  that 
of  life.  Instead  of  bread  we  have  a stone  ; instead  of  a 
fish,  a serpent.  Did  such  a conglomeration  of  abstract 
terms  give  really  the  gist  of  our  knowledge  of  the  deity, 
schools  of  theology  might  indeed  continue  to  flourish,  but 
religion,  vital  religion,  would  have  taken  its  flight  from 


PHILOSOPHY 


447 


this  world.  What  keeps  religion  going  is  something  else 
than  abstract  definitions  and  systems  of  concatenated 
adjectives,  and  something  different  from  faculties  of 
theology  and  their  professors.  All  these  things  are  after- 
effects, secondary  accretions  upon  those  phenomena  of 
vital  conversation  with  the  unseen  divine,  of  which  I 
have  shown  you  so  many  instances,  renewing  themselves 
in  scECula  sceculorimi  in  the  fives  of  humble  private  men. 

So  much  for  the  metaphysical  attributes  of  God ! 
From  the  point  of  view  of  practical  religion,  the  meta- 
physical monster  which  they  offer  to  our  worship  is  an 
absolutely  worthless  invention  of  the  scholarly  mind. 

What  shall  we  now  say  of  the  attributes  called  moral  ? 
Pragmatically,  they  stand  on  an  entirely  different  footing. 
They  positively  determine  fear  and  hope  and  expectation, 
and  are  foundations  for  the  saintly  fife.  It  needs  but  a 
glance  at  them  to  sIioav  how  great  is  their  significance. 

God’s  holiness,  for  example ; being  holy,  God  can  will 
nothing  but  the  good.  Being  omnipotent,  he  can  secure 
its  triumph.  Being  omniscient,  he  can  see  us  in  the 
dark.  Being  just,  he  can  punish  us  for  what  he  sees. 
Being  loving,  he  can  pardon  too.  Being  unalterable,  we 
can  count  on  him  securely.  These  qualities  enter  into 
connection  with  om*  fife,  it  is  fiighly  important  that  we 
should  be  informed  concerning  them.  That  God’s  pur- 
pose in  creation  should  be  the  manifestation  of  his  glory 
is  also  an  attribute  which  has  definite  relations  to  our 
practical  life.  Among  other  things  it  has  given  a definite 
character  to  worship  in  all  Christian  countries.  If  dog- 
matic theology  really  does  prove  beyond  dispute  that  a 
God  with  characters  like  these  exists,  she  may  well  claim 
to  give  a solid  basis  to  religious  sentiment.  But  verily, 
how  stands  it  with  her  arguments  ? 


448  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


It  stands  witli  them  as  iU  as  with  the  arguments  for 
his  existence.  Not  only  do  post-Kantian  idealists  reject 
them  root  and  branch,  but  it  is  a plain  historic  fact  that 
they  never  have  converted  any  one  who  has  found  in  the 
moral  complexion  of  the  world,  as  he  experienced  it, 
reasons  for  doubting  that  a good  God  can  have  fr8,med 
it.  To  prove  God’s  goodness  by  the  scholastic  argument 
that  there  is  no  non-being  in  his  essence  would  sound  to 
such  a witness  simply  silly. 

No ! the  book  of  Job  went  over  this  whole  matter 
once  for  all  and  definitively.  Ratiocination  is  a relatively 
superficial  and  unreal  path  to  the  deity  : “ I will  lay  mine 
hand  upon  my  mouth ; I have  heard  of  Thee  by  the 
hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee.”  An 
intellect  perplexed  and  baffled,  yet  a trustful  sense  of 
presence  — such  is  the  situation  of  the  man  who  is  sin- 
cere with  himself  and  with  the  facts,  but  who  remains 
religious  still.^ 

We  must  therefore,  I think,  bid  a definitive  good-by 
to  dogmatic  theology.  In  aU  sincerity  our  faith  must  do 
without  that  warrant.  Modern  idealism,  I repeat,  has  said 
good-by  to  this  theology  forever.  Can  modern  idealism 
give  faith  a better  warrant,  or  must  she  still  rely  on  her 
poor  self  for  witness  ? 

The  basis  of  modern  idealism  is  Kant’s  doctrine  of  the 

^ Pragmatically,  the  most  important  attribute  of  God  is  his  punitive  jus- 
tice. But  who,  in  the  present  state  of  theological  opinion  on  that  point,  will 
dare  maintain  that  hell  fire  or  its  equivalent  in  some  shape  is  rendered  cer- 
tain by  pure  logic  ? Theology  herself  has  largely  based  this  doctrine  upon 
revelation  ; and,  in  discussing  it,  has  tended  more  and  more  to  substitute 
conventional  ideas  of  criminal  law  for  a priori  principles  of  reason.  But 
the  very  notion  that  this  glorious  universe,  with  planets  and  winds,  and 
laughing  sky  and  ocean,  should  have  been  conceived  and  had  its  beams  and 
rafters  laid  in  technicalities  of  criminality,  is  incredible  to  our  modem 
imagination.  It  weakens  a religion  to  hear  it  argued  upon  such  a basis. 


PHILOSOPHY 


449 


rVanscendental  Ego  of  Apperception.  By  this  formidable 
term  Kant  merely  meant  the  fact  that  the  consciousness 
‘ I think  them  ’ must  (potentially  or  actually)  accompany 
all  our  objects.  Former  skeptics  had  said  as  much,  but 
the  ‘ I ’ in  question  had  remained  for  them  identified  with 
the  personal  individual.  Kant  abstracted  and  deper- 
sonalized it,  and  made  it  the  most  universal  of  all  his 
categories,  although  for  Kant  himself  the  Transcendental 
Ego  had  no  theological  implications. 

It  was  reserved  for  his  successors  to  convert  Kant’s 
notion  of  Bewusstsein  iiberhatipt,  or  abstract  conscious- 
ness, into  an  infinite  concrete  self-consciousness  which  is 
the  soul  of  the  world,  and  in  which  our  sundry  personal 
self-consciousnesses  have  their  being.  It  would  lead  me 
into  technicalities  to  show  you  even  briefly  how  this 
transformation  was  in  point  of  fact  effected.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  in  the  Hegelian  school,  which  to-day  so  deeply 
influences  both  British  and  American  thinking,  two  prin- 
ciples have  borne  the  brunt  of  the  operation. 

The  first  of  these  principles  is  that  the  old  logic  of 
identity  never  gives  us  more  than  a post-mortem  dissec- 
tion of  disjecta  membra,  and  that  the  fullness  of  life  can 
be  construed  to  thought  only  by  recognizing  that  every 
object  which  our  thought  may  propose  to  itself  involves 
the  notion  of  some  other  object  which  seems  at  first  to 
negate  the  first  one. 

The  second  principle  is  that  to  be  conscious  of  a nega^ 
tion  is  already  virtually  to  be  beyond  it.  The  mere  ask- 
ing of  a question  or  expression  of  a dissatisfaction  proves 
that  the  answer  or  the  satisfaction  is  already  imminent ; 
the  finite,  realized  as  such,  is  already  the  infinite  in 
posse. 

Applying  these  principles,  we  seem  to  get  a propulsive 
force  into  our  logic  which  the  ordinary  logic  of  a bar^ 


450  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

stark  seK-identity  in  each  thing  never  attains  to.  The 
objects  of  our  thought  now  act  within  our  thought,  act  as 
objects  act  when  given  in  experience.  They  change  and 
develop.  They  introduce  something  other  than  them- 
selves along  with  them ; and  this  other,  at  first  only  ideal 
or  potential,  presently  proves  itself  also  to  be  actual.  It 
supersedes  the  thing  at  first  supposed,  and  both  verifies 
and  corrects  it,  in  developing  the  fullness  of  its  meaning. 

The  program  is  excellent ; the  universe  is  a place 
where  things  are  followed  by  other  things  that  both  cor- 
rect and  fulfill  them ; and  a logic  which  gave  us  some- 
thing like  this  movement  of  fact  would  express  truth  far 
better  than  the  traditional  school-logic,  which  never  gets 
of  its  own  accord  from  anything  to  anything  else,  and 
registers  only  predictions  and  subsumptions,  or  static  re* 
semblances  and  differences.  Nothing  could  be  more  un- 
hke  the  methods  of  dogmatic  theology  than  those  of  this 
new  logic.  Let  me  quote  in  illustration  some  passages 
from  the  Scottish  transcendentalist  whom  I have  already 
named. 

“ How  are  we  to  conceive,”  Principal  Caird  writes,  “ of  th& 
reality  in  which  all  intelligence  rests  ? ” He  replies ; “ Two 
things  may  without  difficulty  be  proved,  viz.,  that  this  reality 
is  an  absolute  Spirit,  and  conversely  that  it  is  only  in  com- 
munion  with  this  absolute  Spirit  or  Intelligence  that  the  finite 
Spirit  can  realize  itself.  It  is  absolute ; for  the  faintest  move- 
ment of  human  intelligence  would  be  arrested,  if  it  did  not 
presuppose  the  absolute  reality  of  intelligence,  of  thought 
itself.  Doubt  or  denial  themselves  presuppose  and  indirectly 
affirm  it.  When  I pronounce  anything  to  be  true,  I pronounce 
it,  indeed,  to  be  relative  to  thought,  but  not  to  be  relative  to 
my  thought,  or  to  the  thought  of  any  other  individual  mind. 
From  the  existence  of  all  individual  minds  as  such  I can  ab- 
stract •,  I can  think  them  away.  But  that  which  I cannot  think 
away  is  thought  or  self-consciousness  itself,  in  its  independence 


PHILOSOPHY 


451 


and  absoluteness,  or,  in  other  words,  an  Absolute  Thought  or 
Self-Consciousness.” 

Here,  you  see,  Principal  Caird  makes  the  transition 
which  Kant  did  not  make  : he  converts  the  omnipre- 
sence of  consciousness  in  general  as  a condition  of  ‘ truth  ’ 
being  anywhere  possible,  into  an  omnipresent  universal 
consciousness,  which  he  identifies  with  God  in  his  con- 
creteness. He  next  proceeds  to  use  the  principle  that 
to  acknowledge  your  limits  is  in  essence  to  he  beyond 
them ; and  makes  the  transition  to  the  rehgious  experi- 
ence of  individuals  in  the  following  words  : — 

“ If  [Man]  were  only  a creature  of  transient  sensations  and 
impulses,  of  an  ever  coming  and  going  succession  of  intuitions, 
fancies,  feelings,  then  nothing  could  ever  have  for  him  the  char- 
acter of  objective  truth  or  reality.  But  it  is  the  prerogative  of 
man’s  spiritual  nature  that  he  can  yield  himself  up  to  a thought 
and  will  that  are  infinitely  larger  than  his  own.  As  a think- 
ing, self-conscious  being,  indeed,  he  may  be  said,  by  his  very 
nature,  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Universal  Life.  As  a 
thinking  being,  it  is  possible  for  me  to  suppress  and  quell  in 
my  consciousness  every  movement  of  self-assertion,  every  notion 
and  opinion  that  is  merely  mine,  every  desire  that  belongs  to 
me  as  this  particular  Self,  and  to  become  the  pure  medium  of  a 
thought  that  is  universal  — in  one  word,  to  live  no  more  my 
own  life,  but  let  my  consciousness  be  possessed  and  suffused 
by  the  Infinite  and  Eternal  life  of  spirit.  And  yet  it  is  just 
in  this  renunciation  of  self  that  I truly  gain  myself,  or  realize 
the  highest  possibilities  of  my  own  nature.  For  whilst  in  one 
sense  we  give  up  self  to  live  the  universal  and  absolute  life  of 
reason,  yet  that  to  which  we  thus  surrender  ourselves  is  in 
reality  our  truer  self.  The  life  of  absolute  reason  is  not  a life 
that  is  foreign  to  us.” 

Nevertheless,  Principal  Caird  goes  on  to  say,  so  far  as 
we  are  able  outwardly  to  realize  this  doctrine,  the  balm 
it  offers  remains  incomplete.  Whatever  we  may  be  in 
posse,  the  very  best  of  us  in  actu  falls  very  short  of 


462  THE  VARIETIES  01  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


being  absolutely  divine.  Social  morality,  love,  and  self' 
sacrifice  even,  merge  our  Self  only  in  some  other  finite 
self  or  selves.  They  do  not  quite  identify  it  with  the 
Infinite.  Man’s  ideal  destiny,  infinite  in  abstract  logic, 
might  thus  seem  in  practice  forever  unrealizable. 

“ Is  there,  then,”  our  author  continues,  “ no  solution  of  the 
contradiction  between  the  ideal  and  the  actual?  We  answer, 
There  is  such  a solution,  but  in  order  to  reach  it  we  are  carried 
beyond  the  sphere  of  morality  into  that  of  religion.  It  may  be 
said  to  be  the  essential  characteristic  of  religion  as  contrasted 
with  morality,  that  it  changes  aspiration  into  fruition,  anticipa- 
tion into  realization ; that  instead  of  leaving  man  in  the  inter- 
minable pursuit  of  a vanishing  ideal,  it  makes  him  the  actual 
partaker  of  a divine  or  infinite  life.  Whether  we  view  religion 
from  the  human  side  or  the  divine  — as  the  surrender  of  the 
soul  to  God,  or  as  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  — in  either  aspect 
it  is  of  its  very  essence  that  the  Infinite  has  ceased  to  be  a far- 
off  vision,  and  has  become  a present  reality.  The  very  first 
pulsation  of  the  spiritual  life,  when  we  rightly  apprehend  its 
significance,  is  the  indication  that  the  division  between  the 
Spirit  and  its  object  has  vanished,  that  the  ideal  has  become 
real,  that  the  finite  has  reached  its  goal  and  become  suffused 
with  the  presence  and  life  of  the  Infinite. 

“ Oneness  of  mind  and  will  with  the  divine  mind  and  wifi 
is  not  the  future  hope  and  aim  of  religion,  but  its  very  begin- 
ning and  birth  in  the  soul.  To  enter  on  the  religious  life  is  to 
terminate  the  struggle.  In  that  act  which  constitutes  the  be- 
ginning of  the  religious  life  — call  it  faith,  or  trust,  or  self-sur- 
render, or  by  whatever  name  you  will  — there  is  involved  the 
identification  of  the  finite  with  a life  which  is  eternally  realized. 
It  is  true  indeed  that  the  religious  life  is  progressive ; but 
understood  in  the  light  of  the  foregoing  idea,  religious  progress 
is  not  progress  towards,  but  within  the  sphere  of  the  Infinite. 
It  is  not  the  vain  attempt  by  endless  finite  additions  or  incre- 
ments to  become  possessed  of  infinite  wealth,  but  it  is  the 
endeavor,  by  the  constant  exercise  of  spiritual  activity,  to  ap- 
propriate that  infinite  inheritance  of  which  we  are  already  in 


PHILOSOPHY 


453 


possession.  The  whole  future  of  the  religious  life  is  given  in 
its  beginning,  but  it  is  given  implicitly.  The  position  of  the 
man  who  has  entered  on  the  religious  life  is  that  evil,  error, 
imperfection,  do  not  really  belong  to  him : they  are  excres- 
cences which  have  no  organic  relation  to  his  true  nature  : they 
are  already  virtually,  as  they  will  be  actually,  suppressed  and 
annulled,  and  in  the  very  process  of  being  annulled  they  become 
the  means  of  spiritual  progress.  Though  he  is  not  exempt 
from  temptation  and  conflict,  [yet]  in  that  inner  sphere  in 
which  his  true  life  lies,  the  struggle  is  over,  the  victory  already 
achieved.  It  is  not  a finite  but  an  infinite  life  which  the  spirit 
lives.  Every  pulse-beat  of  its  [existence]  is  the  expression  and 
realization  of  the  life  of  God.”  ^ 

You  will  readily  admit  that  no  description  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  religious  consciousness  could  he  better  than 
these  words  of  your  lamented  preacher  and  philosopher. 
They  reproduce  the  very  rapture  of  those  crises  of  con- 
version of  which  we  have  been  hearing ; they  utter  what 
the  mystic  felt  but  was  unable  to  communicate ; and  the 
saint,  in  hearing  them,  recognizes  his  own  experience. 
It  is  indeed  gratifying  to  find  the  content  of  religion 
reported  so  unanimously.  But  when  all  is  said  and  done, 
has  Principal  Caird  — and  I only  use  him  as  an  example 
of  that  whole  mode  of  thinking  — transcended  the  sphere 
of  feeling  and  of  the  direct  experience  of  the  individual, 
and  laid  the  foundations  of  religion  in  impartial  reason  ? 
Has  he  made  religion  universal  by  coercive  reasonmg, 
transformed  it  from  a private  faith  into  a public  cer- 
tainty? Has  he  rescued  its  affirmations  from  obscurity 
and  mystery  ? 

I believe  that  he  has  done  nothing  of  the  kind,  but 
that  he  has  simply  reaffirmed  the  individual’s  experiences 
in  a more  generalized  vocabulary.  And  again,  I can  be 

^ John  Caird  : An  Introduction  to  the  Philosophy  of  Religion,  London 
and  New  York,  1880,  pp.  243-250,  and  291-299,  much  abridged. 


454  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


excused  from  proving  technically  that  the  transcendental- 
ist  reasonings  fail  to  make  religion  universal,  for  I can 
point  to  the  plain  fact  that  a majority  of  scholars,  even 
religiously  disposed  ones,  stubbornly  refuse  to  treat  them 
as  convincing.  The  whole  of  Germany,  one  may  say, 
has  positively  rejected  the  Hegehan  argumentation.  As 
for  Scotland,  I need  only  mention  Professor  Fraser’s  and 
Professor  Pringle-Pattison’s  memorable  criticisms,  "with 
which  so  many  of  you  are  famdiar.^  Once  more,  I ash, 
if  transcendental  idealism  were  as  objectively  and  abso- 
lutely rational  as  it  pretends  to  be,  could  it  possibly  fail 
so  egregiously  to  be  persuasive  ? 

What  religion  reports,  you  must  remember,  always  pur- 
ports to  be  a fact  of  experience : the  divine  is  actually 
present,  religion  says,  and  between  it  and  ourselves  rela 
tions  of  give  and  take  are  actual.  If  definite  percep 
tions  of  fact  like  this  cannot  stand  upon  their  own  feet, 

^ A.  C.  Fraser  : Philosophy  of  Theism,  second  edition,  Edinburgh  and 
London,  1899,  especially  part  ii.  chaps,  vii.  and  viii.  ; A.  Seth  [Pringle- 
Pattison]  : Hegelianism  and  Personality,  Ibid.,  1890,  passim. 

The  most  persuasive  arguments  in  favor  of  a concrete  individual  Soul  of 
the  world,  with  which  I am  acquainted,  are  those  of  my  colleague,  Josiah 
Royce,  in  his  Religious  Aspect  of  Philosophy,  Boston,  1885  ; in  his  Con- 
ception of  God,  New  York  and  London,  1897  ; and  lately  in  his  Aberdeen 
Gifford  Lectures,  The  World  and  the  Individual,  2 vols..  New  York  and 
London,  1901-02.  I doubtless  seem  to  some  of  my  readers  to  evade  the 
philosophic  duty  which  my  thesis  in  this  lecture  imposes  on  me,  by  not  even 
attempting  to  meet  Professor  Royce’s  arguments  articulately.  I admit  the 
momentary  evasion.  In  the  present  lectures,  which  are  cast  throughout  in 
a popular  mould,  there  seemed  no  room  for  subtle  metaphysical  discussion, 
and  for  tactical  purposes  it  was  sufficient,  the  contention  of  philosophy  being 
what  it  is  (namely,  that  religion  can  be  transformed  into  a universally  con- 
vincing science),  to  point  to  the  fact  that  no  religious  philosophy  has  actually 
convinced  the  mass  of  thinkers.  Meanwhile  let  me  say  that  I hope  that  the 
present  volume  may  be  followed  by  another,  if  I am  spared  to  write  it,  in 
which  not  only  Professor  Royce’s  arguments,  but  others  for  monistic  abso- 
lutism shall  be  considered  with  all  the  technical  fullness  which  their  great 
importance  calls  for.  At  present  I resign  myself  to  lying  passive  under  the 
reproach  of  superficiality. 


PHILOSOPHY 


455 


surely  abstract  reasoning  cannot  give  them  the  support 
they  are  in  need  of.  Conceptual  processes  can  class  facts, 
define  them,  interpret  them;  but  they  do  not  produce 
them,  nor  can  they  reproduce  their  individuality.  There 
is  always  a 'plus,  a thisness,  which  feeling  alone  can 
answer  for.  Philosophy  in  this  sphere  is  thus  a secondary 
function,  unable  to  warrant  faith’s  veracity,  and  so  I 
revert  to  the  thesis  which  I announced  at  the  beginning 
of  this  lecture. 

In  all  sad  sincerity  I think  we  must  conclude  that  the 
attempt  to  demonstrate  by  purely  intellectual  processes 
the  truth  of  the  deliverances  of  direct  rehgious  experience 
is  absolutely  hopeless. 


It  would  be  unfair  to  philosophy,  however,  to  leave 
her  under  this  negative  sentence.  Let  me  close,  then,  by 
briefly  enumerating  what  she  can  do  for  religion.  If  she 
will  abandon  metaphysics  and~deduction  for  criticism  and 
induction,  and  frankly  transform  herself  from  theology 
into  science  of  religions,  she  can  make  herself  enormously 
useful. 

The  spontaneous  intellect  of  man  always  defines  the 
divine  which  it  feels  in  ways  that  harmonize  with  its 
temporary  intellectual  prepossessions.  Philosophy  can  by 
comparison  eliminate  the  local  and  the  accidental  from 
these  definitions.  Both  from  dogma  and  from  worship 
she  can  remove  historic  incrustations.  By  confronting 
the  spontaneous  religious  constructions  with  the  results  of 
natural  science,  philosophy  can  also  eliminate  doctrines 
that  are  now  known  to  be  scientifically  absurd  or  incon- 
gruous. 

Sifting  out  in  this  way  unworthy  formulations,  she  can 
leave  a residuum  of  conceptions  that  at  least  are  possible. 
With  these  she  can  deal  as  hypotheses,  testing  them  in 


456  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


all  the  manners,  whether  negative  or  positive,  by  which 
hypotheses  are  ever  tested.  She  can  reduce  their  num- 
ber, as  some  are  found  more  open  to  objection.  She  can 
perhaps  become  the  champion  of  one  which  she  picks  out 
as  being  the  most  closely  verified  or  verifiable.  She  can 
refine  upon  the  definition  of  this  hypothesis,  distinguish- 
ing between  what  is  innocent  over-belief  and  symbolism 
in  the  expression  of  it,  and  what  is  to  be  literally  taken. 
As  a result,  she  can  offer  mediation  between  different 
believers,  and  help  to  bring  about  consensus  of  opinion. 
She  can  do  this  the  more  successfully,  the  better  she  dis- 
criminates the  common  and  essential  from  the  individual 
and  local  elements  of  the  rehgious  beliefs  which  she  com- 
pares. 

I do  not  see  why  a critical  Science  of  Religions  of  this 
sort  might  not  eventually  command  as  general  a pubhc 
adhesion  as  is  commanded  by  a physical  science.  Even 
the  personally  non-religious  might  accept  its  conclusions 
on  trust,  much  as  blind  persons  now  accept  the  facts  of 
optics  — it  might  appear  as  foolish  to  refuse  them.  Yet 
as  the  science  of  optics  has  to  be  fed  in  the  first  instance, 
and  continually  verified  later,  by  facts  experienced  by 
seeing  persons ; so  the  science  of  religions  would  depend 
for  its  original  material  on  facts  of  personal  experience, 
and  would  have  to  square  itself  with  personal  experience 
through  all  its  critical  reconstructions.  It  could  never  get 
away  from  concrete  life,  or  work  in  a conceptual  vacuum. 
It  would  forever  have  to  confess,  as  every  science  con- 
fesses, that  the  subtlety  of  nature  flies  beyond  it,  and  that 
its  formulas  are  but  approximations.  Philosophy  lives  in 
words,  but  truth  and  fact  well  up  into  our  lives  in  ways 
that  exceed  verbal  formulation.  There  is  in  the  living 
act  of  perception  always  something  that  glimmers  and 
twinkles  and  will  not  be  caught,  and  for  which  reflection 


PHILOSOPHY 


467 


comes  too  late.  No  one  knows  this  as  well  as  the  philo- 
sopher. He  must  fire  his  volley  of  new  vocables  out  of 
his  conceptual  shotgun,  for  his  profession  condemns  him 
to  this  industry,  but  he  secretly  knows  the  hollowness 
and  irrelevancy.  His  formulas  are  hke  stereoscopic  or 
kinetoscopic  photographs  seen  outside  the  instrument; 
they  lack  the  depth,  the  motion,  the  vitality.  In  the 
religious  sphere,  in  particular,  belief  that  formulas  are 
true  can  never  whoUy  take  the  place  of  personal  expe- 
rience. 

In  my  next  lecture  I wiU  try  to  complete  my  rough 
description  of  rehgious  experience  ; and  in  the  lecture 
after  that,  which  is  the  last  one,  I will  try  my  own  hand 
at  formulating  conceptually  the  truth  to  which  it  is  a 
witness. 


LECTURE  XIX 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 

WE  have  wound  our  way  back,  after  our  excursion! 

through  mysticism  and  philosophy,  to  where  we 
were  before : the  uses  of  religion,  its  uses  to  the  indi- 
vidual who  has  it,  and  the  uses  of  the  individual  himself 
to  the  world,  are  the  best  arguments  that  truth  is  in  it. 
We  return  to  the  empirical  philosophy  : the  true  is  what: 
works  well,  even  though  the  qualification  ‘ on  the  whole  ’ 
may  always  have  to  be  added.  In  this  lecture  we  must 
revert  to  description  again,  and  finish  our  picture  of  the 
religious  consciousness  by  a word  about  some  of  its  other 
characteristic  elements.  Then,  in  a final  lecture,  we  shall 
be  free  to  make  a general  review  and  draw  our  independ- 
ent conclusions. 

The  first  point  I will  speak  of  is  the  part  which  the 
aesthetic  life  plays  in  determining  one’s  choice  of  a reli- 
gion. Men,  I said  awhile  ago,  involuntarily  intellectu- 
alize  their  religious  experience.  They  need  formulas, 
just  as  they  need  fellowship  in  worship.  I spoke,  there- 
fore, too  contemptuously  of  the  pragmatic  uselessness  of 
the  famous  scholastic  list  of  attributes  of  the  deity,  for 
they  have  one  use  which  I neglected  to  consider.  The 
eloquent  passage  in  which  Newman  enumerates  them  ^ 
puts  us  on  the  track  of  it.  Intoning  them  as  he  would 
intone  a cathedral  service,  he  shows  how  high  is  their 
aesthetic  value.  It  enriches  our  bare  piety  to  carry  these 
exalted  and  mysterious  verbal  additions  just  as  it  enriches 
^ Idea  of  a University,  Discourse  III.  § 7. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


459 


a church  to  have  an  organ  and  old  brasses,  marbles  and 
frescoes  and  stained  windows.  Epithets  lend  an  atmos- 
phere and  overtones  to  our  devotion.  They  are  hke  a 
hymn  of  praise  and  service  of  glory,  and  may  sound  the 
more  sublime  for  being  incomprehensible.  Minds  like 
Newman’s  ^ grow  as  jealous  of  then’  credit  as  heathen 
priests  are  of  that  of  the  jewelry  and  ornaments  that 
blaze  upon  their  idols. 

Among  the  buildings-out  of  religion  which  the  mind 
spontaneously  indulges  in,  the  aesthetic  motive  must  never 
be  forgotten.  I promised  to  say  nothing  of  ecclesiastical 
systems  in  these  lectures.  I may  be  allowed,  however, 
to  put  in  a word  at  this  point  on  the  way  in  which  their 
satisfaction  of  certain  aesthetic  needs  contributes  to  their 
hold  on  human  nature.  Although  some  persons  aim 
most  at  intellectual  purity  and  simplification,  for  others 
richness  is  the  supreme  imaginative  requirement.^  When 
one’s  mind  is  strongly  of  this  type,  an  individual  religion 
will  hardly  serve  the  purpose.  The  inner  need  is  rather 


^ Newman’s  imagination  so  innately  craved  an  ecclesiastical  system  that 
he  can  write  : “ From  the  age  of  fifteen,  dogma  has  been  the  fundamental 
principle  of  my  religion  : I know  no  other  religion  ; I cannot  enter  into  the 
idea  of  any  other  sort  of  religion.”  And  again,  speaking  of  himself  about 
the  age  of  thirty,  he  writes  : “ I loved  to  act  as  feeling  myself  in  my 
Bishop’s  sight,  as  if  it  were  the  sight  of  God.”  Apologia,  1897,  pp.  48,  50. 

^ The  intellectual  difference  is  quite  on  a par  in  practical  importance 
with  the  analogous  difference  in  character.  We  saw,  under  the  head  of 
Saintliness,  how  some  characters  resent  confusion  and  must  live  in  purity, 
consistency,  simplicity  (above,  p.  280  ff.).  For  others,  on  the  contrary, 
superabundance,  over-pressure,  stimulation,  lots  of  superficial  relations,  are 
indispensable.  There  are  men  who  would  suffer  a very  syncope  if  you 
should  pay  all  their  debts,  bring  it  about  that  their  engagements  had  been 
kept,  their  letters  answered,  their  perplexities  relieved,  and  their  duties 
fulfilled,  down  to  one  which  lay  on  a clean  table  under  their  eyes  with 
nothing  to  interfere  with  its  immediate  performance.  A day  stripped  so 
staringly  bare  would  be  for  them  appalling.  So  with  ease,  elegance,  trib- 
utes of  affection,  social  recognitions  — some  of  us  require  amounts  of  these 
things  which  to  others  would  appear  a mass  of  lying  and  sophistication. 


i60  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  something  institutional  and  complex,  majestic  in  the 
hierarchic  interrelatedness  of  its  parts,  with  authority  de- 
scending from  stage  to  stage,  and  at  every  stage  objects 
for  adjectives  of  mystery  and  splendor,  derived  in  the 
last  resort  from  the  Godhead  who  is  the  fountain  and 
culmination  of  the  system.  One  feels  then  as  if  in  pre- 
sence of  some  vast  incrusted  work  of  jewelry  or  architec- 
ture ; one  hears  the  multitudinous  liturgical  appeal ; one 
gets  the  honorific  vibration  coming  from  every  quarter. 
Compared  with  such  a noble  complexity,  in  which  as- 
scending  and  descending  movements  seem  in  no  way  to 
jar  upon  stability,  in  which  no  single  item,  however  hum- 
ble, is  insignificant,  because  so  many  august  institutions 
hold  it  in  its  place,  how  flat  does  evangelical  Protestant- 
ism appear,  how  bare  the  atmosphere  of  those  isolated  re- 
ligious lives  whose  boast  it  is  that  “ man  in  the  bush  with 
God  may  meet.”  ^ What  a pulverization  and  leveling  of 
what  a gloriously  piled-up  structure  ! To  an  imagination 
used  to  the  perspectives  of  dignity  and  glory,  the  naked 
gospel  scheme  seems  to  offer  an  almshouse  for  a palace. 

It  is  much  like  the  patriotic  sentiment  of  those  brought 
up  in  ancient  empires.  How  many  emotions  must  be 
frustrated  of  their  object,  when  one  gives  up  the  titles  of 
dignity,  the  crimson  lights  and  blare  of  brass,  the  gold 
embroidery,  the  plumed  troops,  the  fear  and  trembling, 
and  puts  up  with  a president  in  a black  coat  who  shakes 
hands  with  you,  and  comes,  it  may  be,  from  a ‘ home  ’ 
upon  a veldt  or  prairie  with  one  sitting-room  and  a Bible 
on  its  centre-table.  It  pauperizes  the  monarchical  imagi- 
nation ! 

The  strength  of  these  aesthetic  sentiments  makes  it 

^ In  Newman’s  Lectures  on  Justification,  Lecture  VIII.  § 6,  there  is  a 
splendid  passage  expressive  of  this  sesthetic  way  of  feeling  the  Christian 
scheme.  It  is  unfortunately  too  long  to  quote. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


461 


rigorously  impossible,  it  seems  to  me,  that  Protestantism, 
however  superior  in  spiritual  profundity  it  may  be  to 
CathoHcism,  should  at  the  present  day  succeed  in  making 
many  converts  from  the  more  venerable  ecclesiasticism. 
The  latter  offers  a so  much  richer  pasturage  and  shade 
to  the  fancy,  has  so  many  cells  with  so  many  different 
kinds  of  honey,  is  so  indulgent  in  its  multiform  appeals 
to  human  nature,  that  Protestantism  will  always  show  to 
Catholic  eyes  the  almshouse  physiognomy.  The  bitter 
negativity  of  it  is  to  the  Catholic  mind  incomprehensi- 
ble. To  intellectual  Catholics  many  of  the  antiquated 
beliefs  and  practices  to  which  the  Church  gives  counte- 
nance are,  if  taken  literally,  as  childish  as  they  are  to 
Protestants.  But  they  are  childish  in  the  pleasing  sense 
of  ‘ childlike,’  — innocent  and  amiable,  and  worthy  to  be 
smiled  on  in  consideration  of  the  undeveloped  condition 
of  the  dear  people’s  intellects.  To  the  Protestant,  on 
the  contrary,  they  are  childish  in  the  sense  of  being 
idiotic  falsehoods.  He  must  stamp  out  their  dehcate  and 
lovable  redundancy,  leaving  the  Cathohc  to  shudder  at 
his  literalness.  He  appears  to  the  latter  as  morose  as  if 
he  were  some  hard-eyed,  numb,  monotonous  kind  of  rep- 
tile. The  two  will  never  understand  each  other  — their 
centres  of  emotional  energy  are  too  different.  Rigorous 
truth  and  human  nature’s  intricacies  are  always  in  need 
of  a mutual  interpreter.^  So  much  for  the  aesthetic  diver- 
sities in  the  religious  consciousness. 

1 Compare  the  informality  of  Protestantism,  where  the  ‘ meek  lover  of 
the  good,’  alone  with  his  God,  visits  the  sick,  etc.,  for  their  own  sakes,  with 
the  elaborate  ‘ business  ’ that  goes  on  in  Catholic  devotion,  and  carries  with 
it  the  social  excitement  of  all  more  complex  businesses.  An  essentially 
worldly-minded  Catholic  woman  can  become  a visitor  of  the  sick  on  purely 
coquettish  principles,  with  her  confessor  and  director,  her  ‘ merit  ’ storing 
up,  her  patron  saints,  her  privileged  relation  to  the  Almighty,  drawing  his 
attention  as  a professional  devote,  her  definite  ‘ exercises,’  and  her  definitely 
recognized  social  joosc  in  the  organization. 


462  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


In  most  books  on  religion,  three  things  are  represented 
as  its  most  essential  elements.  These  are  Sacrifice,  Con-i 
fession,  and  Prayer.  I must  say  a word  in  turn  of  each' 
of  these  elements,  though  briefly.  First  of  Sacrifice. 

Sacrifices  to  gods  are  omnipresent  in  primeval  worship  ; 
but,  as  cults  have  grown  refined,  burnt  offerings  and 
the  blood  of  he-goats  have  been  superseded  by  sacri-^ 
fices  more  spiritual  in  their  nature.  J udaism,  Islam,  and 
Buddhism  get  along  without  ritual  sacrifice ; so  does 
Christianity,  save  in  so  far  as  the  notion  is  preserved  in 
transfigured  form  in  the  mystery  of  Christ’s  atonement. 
These  religions  substitute  offerings  of  the  heart,  renun- 
ciations of  the  inner  self,  for  all  those  vain  oblations.: 
In  the  ascetic  practices  which  Islam,  Buddhism,  and  the: 
older  Christianity  encourage  we  see  how  indestructible  is 
the  idea  that  sacrifice  of  some  sort  is  a religious  exercise,  i 
In  lecturing  on  asceticism  I spoke  of  its  significance  as 
symbolic  of  the  sacrifices  which  life,  whenever  it  is  taken  ^ 
strenuously,  calls  for.^  But,  as  I said  my  say  about: 
those,  and  as  these  lectures  expressly  avoid  earlier  reli- 1 
gious  usages  and  questions  of  derivation,  I will  pass  from 
the  subject  of  Sacrifice  altogether  and  turn  to  that  of 
Confession. 

In  regard  to  Confession  I will  also  be  most  brief,  say- 
ing my  word  about  it  psychologically,  not  historically. 
Not  nearly  as  widespread  as  sacrifice,  it  corresponds  to  a 
more  inward  and  moral  stage  of  sentiment.  It  is  part  of 
the  general  system  of  purgation  and  cleansing  which  one 
feels  one’s  self  in  need  of,  in  order  to  be  in  right  rela- 
tions to  one’s  deity.  For  him  who  confesses,  shams  are 
over  and  realities  have  begun ; he  has  exteriorized  his  rot' 
tenness  If  he  has  not  actually  got  rid  of  it,  he  at  least 
^ Above,  p.  362  ff. 


I 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS  463 

no  longer  smears  it  over  with  a hypocritical  show  of 
virtue  — he  hves  at  least  upon  a basis  of  veracity.  The 
complete  decay  of  the  practice  of  confession  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  communities  is  a little  hard  to  account  for.  Re- 
action against  popery  is  of  course  the  historic  explana- 
j tion,  for  in  popery  confession  went  with  penances  and 
absolution,  and  other  inadmissible  practices.  But  on  the 
side  of  the  sinner  himself  it  seems  as  if  the  need  ought 
to  have  been  too  great  to  accept  so  summary  a refusal  of 
its  satisfaction.  One  would  think  that  in  more  men  the 
shell  of  secrecy  would  have  had  to  open,  the  pent-in 
abscess  to  burst  and  gain  relief,  even  though  the  ear 
that  heard  the  confession  were  unworthy.  The  Catholic 
church,  for  obvious  utilitarian  reasons,  has  substituted 
i auricular  confession  to  one  priest  for  the  more  radical 
j act  of  pubhc  confession.  We  Enghsh-speaking  Protes- 
! tants,  in  the  general  self-reliance  and  unsociability  of  our 
I nature,  seem  to  find  it  enough  if  we  take  God  alone  into 
j our  confidence.^ 

j 

I The  next  topic  on  which  I must  comment  is  Prayer,  — 
and  this  time  it  must  be  less  briefly.  W e have  heard 
much  talk  of  late  against  prayer,  especially  against  prayers 
: for  better  weather  and  for  the  recovery  of  sick  peoplco 
As  regards  prayers  for  the  sick,  if  any  medical  fact  can 
be  considered  to  stand  firm,  it  is  that  in  certain  envi- 
ronments prayer  may  contribute  to  recovery,  and  should 
be  encouraged  as  a therapeutic  measure.  Being  a nor- 
mal factor  of  moral  health  in  the  person,  its  omission 
would  he  deleterious.  The  case  of  the  weather  is  differ- 
ent. Notwithstanding  the  recency  of  the  opposite  behef,^ 

^ A fuller  discussion  of  confession  is  contained  in  the  excellent  work  by 
Frank  Granger  : The  Soul  of  a Christian,  London,  1900,  ch.  xii. 

2 Example  : “ The  minister  at  Sudbury,  being  at  the  Thursday  lecture  in 


464  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


every  one  now  knows  that  droughts  and  storms  follow 
from  physical  antecedents,  and  that  moral  appeals  cannot 
avert  them.  But  petitional  prayer  is  only  one  depart- 
ment of  prayer ; and  if  we  take  the  word  in  the  wider 
sense  as  meaning  every  kind  of  inward  communion  or 
conversation  with  the  power  recognized  as  divine,  we  can 
easily  see  that  scientific  criticism  leaves  it  untouched. 

Prayer  in  this  wide  sense  is  the  very  soid  and  essence 
of  religion.  “ Religion,”  says  a liberal  French  theolo- 
gian, “ is  an  intercourse,  a conscious  and  voluntary  rela- 
tion, entered  into  by  a soul  in  distress  with  the  mysteri- 
ous power  upon  which  it  feels  itself  to  depend,  and  upon 
which  its  fate  is  contingent.  This  intercourse  with  God 
is  realized  by  prayer.  Prayer  is  religion  in  act ; that  is, 
prayer  is  real  religion.  It  is  prayer  that  distinguishes 
the  religious  phenomenon  from  such  similar  or  neighbor- 
ing phenomena  as  purely  moral  or  aesthetic  sentiment. 
Rehgion  is  nothing  if  it  be  net  the  vital  act  by  which 
the  entire  mind  seeks  to  save  itself  by  clinging  to  the 
principle  from  which  it  draws  its  life.  This  act  is  prayer, 
by  which  term  I understand  no  vain  exercise  of  words, 
no  mere  repetition  of  certain  sacred  formulae,  but  the 
very  movement  itself  of  the  soul,  putting  itself  in  a per- 
sonal relation  of  contact  with  the  mysterious  power  of 
which  it  feels  the  presence,  — it  may  be  even  before  it 
has  a name  by  which  to  call  it.  Wherever  this  interior 
prayer  is  lacking,  there  is  no  religion ; wherever,  on  the 
other  hand,  this  prayer  rises  and  stirs  the  soul,  even  in 
the  absence  of  forms  or  of  doctrines,  we  have  living  reli- 
gion. One  sees  from  this  why  ‘ natural  religion,’  so- 

Boston,  heard  the  officiating  clergyman  praying  for  rain.  As  soon  as  the 
service  was  over,  he  went  to  the  petitioner  and  said,  ‘ You  Boston  minis- 
ters, as  soon  as  a tulip  wilts  under  your  windows,  go  to  church  and  pray  for 
rain,  until  all  Concord  and  Sudbury  are  under  water.’”  R.  W.  Emerson: 
Lectures  and  Biographical  Sketches,  p.  363. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


465 


called,  is  not  properly  a religion.  It  cuts  man  off  from 
prayer.  It  leaves  him  and  God  in  mutual  remoteness, 
with  no  intimate  commerce,  no  interior  dialogue,  no  in- 
terchange, no  action  of  God  in  man,  no  return  of  man 
to  God.  At  bottom  this  pretended  religion  is  only  a 
philosophy.  Born  at  epochs  of  rationalism,  of  critical 
investigations,  it  never  was  anything  but  an  abstraction. 
An  artificial  and  dead  creation,  it  reveals  to  its  examiner 
hardly  one  of  the  characters  proper  to  rehgion.”  ^ 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  entire  series  of  our  lectures 
proves  the  truth  of  M.  Sabatier’s  contention.  The  reh- 
gious  phenomenon,  studied  as  an  inner  fact,  and  apart 
from  ecclesiastical  or  theological  complications,  has  shown 
itself  to  consist  everywhere,  and  at  all  its  stages,  in  the 
consciousness  which  individuals  have  of  an  intercourse 
between  themselves  and  higher  powers  with  which  they 
feel  themselves  to  be  related.  This  intercourse  is  re- 
ahzed  at  the  time  as  being  both  active  and  mutual.  If  it 
be  not  effective ; if  it  be  not  a give  and  take  relation ; if 
nothing  be  reaUy  transacted  while  it  lasts ; if  the  world 
is  in  no  whit  different  for  its  having  taken  place  ; then 
prayer,  taken  in  this  wide  meaning  of  a sense  that  some- 
thing is  transacting,  is  of  course  a feeling  of  what  is 
illusory,  and  religion  must  on  the  whole  be  classed,  not 
simply  as  containing  elements  of  delusion,  — these  un- 
doubtedly everywhere  exist,  — but  as  being  rooted  in 
delusion  altogether,  just  as  materiahsts  and  atheists  have 
always  said  it  was.  At  most  there  might  remain,  when 
the  direct  experiences  of  prayer  were  ruled  out  as  false 
witnesses,  some  inferential  belief  that  the  whole  order  of 
existence  must  have  a divine  cause.  But  this  way  of 
contemplating  nature,  pleasing  as  it  would  doubtless  be 

1 Auguste  Sabatier  : Esquisse  d’une  Philosophic  de  la  Religion,  2me 
^d.,  1897,  pp.  24-26,  abridged. 


466 


THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


to  persons  of  a pious  taste,  would  leave  to  them  but  the 
spectators’  part  at  a play,  whereas  in  experimental  reli- 
gion and  the  prayerful  life,  we  seem  ourselves  to  be 
actors,  and  not  in  a play,  but  in  a very  serious  reality. 

The  genuineness  of  rehgion  is  thus  indissolubly  bound 
up  with  the  question  whether  the  prayerful  conscious- 
ness be  or  be  not  deceitful.  The  conviction  that  some- 
thing is  genuinely  transacted  in  this  consciousness  is  the 
very  core  of  hving  religion.  As  to  what  is  transacted, 
great  differences  of  opinion  have  prevailed.  The  unseen 
powers  have  been  supposed,  and  are  yet  supposed,  to  do 
things  which  no  enlightened  man  can  nowadays  believe  in. 
It  may  well  prove  that  the  sphere  of  influence  in  prayer 
is  subjective  exclusively,  and  that  what  is  immediately 
changed  is  only  the  mind  of  the  praying  person.  But 
however  our  opinion  of  prayer’s  effects  may  come  to  be 
Hmited  by  criticism,  religion,  in  the  vital  sense  in  which 
these  lectures  study  it,  must  stand  or  fall  by  the  per- 
suasion that  effects  of  some  sort  genuinely  do  occur. 
Through  prayer,  religion  insists,  things  which  cannot  be 
realized  in  any  other  manner  come  about : energy  which 
but  for  prayer  would  be  bound  is  by  prayer  set  free  and 
operates  in  some  part,  be  it  objective  or  subjective,  of 
the  world  of  facts. 

This  postulate  is  strikingly  expressed  in  a letter  written 
by  the  late  Frederic  W.  H.  Myers  to  a friend,  who  allows 
me  to  quote  from  it.  It  shows  how  independent  the 
prayer-instinct  is  of  usual  doctrinal  complications.  Mr. 
Myers  writes : — 

“ I am  glad  that  you  have  asked  me  about  prayer,  because  I 
have  rather  strong  ideas  on  the  subject.  First  consider  what 
are  the  facts.  There  exists  around  us  a spiritual  universe,  and 
that  universe  is  in  actual  relation  with  the  material.  From  the 
spiritual  universe  comes  the  energy  which  maintains  the  mate- 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


467 


rial ; the  energy  which  makes  the  life  of  each  individual  spirit. 
Our  spirits  are  supported  by  a perpetual  indrawal  of  this 
energy,  and  the  vigor  of  that  indrawal  is  perpetually  changing, 
much  as  the  vigor  of  our  absorption  of  material  nutriment 
changes  from  hour  to  hour. 

“ I call  these  ‘ facts  ’ because  I think  that  some  scheme  of 
this  kind  is  the  only  one  consistent  with  our  actual  evidence ; 
too  complex  to  summarize  here.  How,  then,  should  we  act  on 
these  facts  ? Plainly  we  must  endeavor  to  draw  in  as  much 
spiritual  life  as  possible,  and  we  must  place  our  minds  in  any 
attitude  which  experience  shows  to  be  favorable  to  such  in- 
drawal. Prayer  is  the  general  name  for  that  attitude  of  open 
and  earnest  expectancy.  If  we  then  ask  to  whom  to  pray,  the 
answer  (strangely  enough)  must  be  that  that  does  not  much 
matter.  The  prayer  is  not  indeed  a purely  subjective  thing ; — 
it  means  a real  increase  in  intensity  of  absorption  of  spiritual 
power  or  grace  ; — but  we  do  not  know  enough  of  what  takes 
place  in  the  spiritual  world  to  know  how  the  prayer  operates ; 

— who  is  cognizant  of  it,  or  through  what  channel  the  grace  is 
given.  Better  let  children  pray  to  Christ,  who  is  at  any  rate 
the  highest  individual  spirit  of  whom  we  have  any  knowledge. 
But  it  would  be  rash  to  say  that  Christ  himself  hears  us  ; while 
to  say  that  God  hears  us  is  merely  to  restate  the  first  principle, 

— that  grace  flows  in  from  the  infinite  spiritual  world.” 

Let  us  reserve  the  question  of  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  the  belief  that  power  is  absorbed  until  the  next  lec- 
ture, when  our  dogmatic  conclusions,  if  we  have  any, 
must  be  reached.  Let  this  lecture  still  confine  itself  to 
the  description  of  phenomena ; and  as  a concrete  exam- 
ple of  an  extreme  sort,  of  the  way  in  which  the  prayerful 
life  may  still  be  led,  let  me  take  a case  with  which  most 
of  you  must  be  acquainted,  that  of  George  Muller  of 
Bristol,  who  died  in  1898.  Muller’s  prayers  were  of  the 
crassest  petitional  order.  Early  in  life  he  resolved  on 
taking  certain  Bible  promises  in  literal  sincerity,  and  on 
letting  himself  be  fed,  not  by  his  own  worldly  foresight, 


468  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


but  by  the  Lord’s  hand.  He  had  an  extraordinarily 
active  and  successful  career,  among  the  fruits  of  which 
were  the  distribution  of  over  two  million  copies  of  the 
Scripture  text,  in  different  languages ; the  equipment  of 
several  hundred  missionaries ; the  circulation  of  more 
than  a hundred  and  eleven  million  of  scriptural  books, 
pamphlets,  and  tracts ; the  building  of  five  large  orphan- 
ages, and  the  keeping  and  educating  of  thousands  of 
orphans ; finally,  the  establishment  of  schools  in  which 
over  a hundred  and  twenty-one  thousand  youthful  and 
adult  pupils  were  taught.  In  the  course  of  this  work 
Mr.  Miiller  received  and  administered  nearly  a million 
and  a half  of  pounds  sterling,  and  traveled  over  two  hun- 
dred thousand  miles  of  sea  and  land.^  During  the  sixty- 
eight  years  of  his  ministry,  he  never  owned  any  property 
except  his  clothes  and  furniture,  and  cash  in  hand ; and 
he  left,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  an  estate  worth  only  a 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds. 

His  method  was  to  let  his  general  wants  be  publicly  known, 
but  not  to  acquaint  other  people  with  the  details  of  his  tempo- 
rary necessities.  For  the  relief  of  the  latter,  he  prayed  directly 
to  the  Lord,  believing  that  sooner  or  later  prayers  are  always 
answered  if  one  have  trust  enough.  “ When  I lose  such  a 
thing  as  a key,”  he  writes,  “ I ask  the  Lord  to  direct  me  to  it, 
and  I look  for  an  answer  to  my  prayer ; when  a person  with 
whom  I have  made  an  appointment  does  not  come,  according 
to  the  fixed  time,  and  I begin  to  be  inconvenienced  by  it,  I ask 
the  Lord  to  be  pleased  to  hasten  him  to  me,  and  I look  for  an 
answer ; when  I do  not  understand  a passage  of  the  word  of 
God,  I lift  up  my  heart  to  the  Lord  that  he  would  be  pleased 
by  his  Holy  Spirit  to  instruct  me,  and  I expect  to  be  taught, 
though  I do  not  fix  the  time  when,  and  the  manner  how  it 
should  be;  when  I am  going  to  minister  in  the  Word,  I seek 
help  from  the  Lord,  and  . . . am  not  cast  down,  but  of  good 
cheer  because  I look  for  his  assistance.” 

1 My  authority  for  these  statistics  is  the  little  work  on  Miiller,  by 
ERIC  G.  Warne,  New  York,  1898. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


469 


Muller’s  custom  was  to  never  run  up  bills,  not  even  for  a 
week.  “ As  the  Lord  deals  out  to  us  by  the  day,  . . . the 
week’s  payment  might  become  due  and  we  have  no  money  to 
meet  it;  and  thus  those  with  whom  we  deal  might  be  incon- 
venienced by  us,  and  we  be  found  acting  against  the  command- 
ment of  the  Lord : ‘ Owe  no  man  anything.’  From  this  day 
and  henceforward  whilst  the  Lord  gives  to  us  our  supplies  by 
the  day,  we  purpose  to  pay  at  once  for  every  article  as  it  is 
purchased,  and  never  to  buy  anything  except  we  can  pay  for 
it  at  once,  however  much  it  may  seem  to  be  needed,  and  how- 
ever much  those  with  whom  we  deal  may  wish  to  be  paid  only 
by  the  week.” 

The  articles  needed  of  which  Muller  speaks  were  the  food, 
fuel,  etc.,  of  his  orphanages.  Somehow,  near  as  they  often 
come  to  going  without  a meal,  they  hardly  ever  seem  actually 
to  have  done  so.  “ Greater  and  more  manifest  nearness  of  the 
Lord’s  presence  I have  never  had  than  when  after  breakfast 
there  were  no  means  for  dinner  for  more  than  a hundred  per« 
sons ; or  when  after  dinner  there  were  no  means  for  the  tea, 
and  yet  the  Lord  provided  the  tea ; and  all  this  without  one 
single  human  being  having  been  informed  about  our  need.  . . . 
Through  Grace  my  mind  is  so  fully  assured  of  the  faithfulness 
of  the  Lord,  that  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  need,  I am  en- 
abled in  peace  to  go  about  my  other  work.  Indeed,  did  not 
the  Lord  give  me  this,  which  is  the  result  of  trusting  in  him,  I 
should  scarcely  be  able  to  work  at  all ; for  it  is  now  compar- 
atively a rare  thing  that  a day  comes  when  I am  not  in  need 
for  one  or  another  part  of  the  work.”  ^ 

In  building  his  orphanages  simply  by  prayer  and  faith, 
Muller  affirms  that  his  prime  motive  was  “to  have  something 
to  point  to  as  a visible  proof  that  our  God  and  Father  is  the 
same  faithful  God  that  he  ever  was,  — as  willing  as  ever  to 
prove  himself  the  living  God,  in  our  day  as  formerly,  to  aU 
that  put  their  trust  in  him.”  ^ For  this  reason  he  refused  to 
borrow  money  for  any  of  his  enterprises.  “ How  does  it  work 

1 The  Life  of  Trust  ; Being  a Narrative  of  the  Lord’s  Dealings  with 
George  Muller,  New  American  edition,  N.  Y.,  Crowell,  pp.  228,  194,  219. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  126. 


470  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


when  we  thus  anticipate  God  by  going  our  own  way  ? We  cer- 
tainly weaken  faith  instead  of  increasing  it ; and  each  time  we 
work  thus  a deliverance  of  our  own  we  find  it  more  and  more 
difficult  to  trust  in  God,  till  at  last  we  give  way  entirely  to  our 
natural  fallen  reason  and  unbelief  prevails.  How  different  if 
one  is  enabled  to  wait  God’s  own  time,  and  to  look  alone  to 
him  for  help  and  deliverance ! When  at  last  help  comes,  after 
many  seasons  of  prayer  it  may  be,  how  sweet  it  is,  and  what  a 
present  recompense  ! Dear  Christian  reader,  if  you  have  never 
walked  in  this  path  of  obedience  before,  do  so  now,  and  you 
will  then  know  experimentally  the  sweetness  of  the  joy  which 
results  from  it.”  ^ 

When  the  supplies  came  in  but  slowly,  Muller  always  con- 
sidered that  this  was  for  the  trial  of  his  faith  and  patience. 
When  his  faith  and  patience  had  been  sufficiently  tried,  the 
Lord  would  send  more  means.  “ And  thus  it  has  proved,”  — 
I quote  from  his  diary,  — “ for  to-day  was  given  me  the  sum  of 
2050  pounds,  of  which  2000  are  for  the  building  fund  [of  a 
certain  house],  and  50  for  present  necessities.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  describe  my  joy  in  God  when  I received  this  donation.  I 
was  neither  excited  nor  surprised  ; for  I look  out  for  answers 
to  my  prayers.  I believe  that  God  hears  me.  Yet  my  heart 
was  so  full  of  joy  that  I could  only  sit  before  God,  and  admire 
him,  like  David  in  2 Samuel  vii.  At  last  I cast  myself  flat 
down  upon  my  face  and  burst  forth  in  thanksgiving  to  God 
and  in  surrendering  my  heart  afresh  to  him  for  his  blessed 
service.”  ^ 

George  Muller’s  is  a case  extreme  in  every  respect,  and 
in  no  respect  more  so  than  in  the  extraordinary  narrow- 
ness of  the  man’s  intellectual  horizon.  His  God  was,  as 
he  often  said,  his  business  partner.  He  seems  to  have 
been  for  Muller  little  more  than  a sort  of  supernatural 
clergyman  interested  in  the  congregation  of  tradesmen 
and  others  in  Bristol  who  were  his  saints,  and  in  the 
orphanages  and  other  enterprises,  but  unpossessed  of 
* Op.  oit.,  p.  383,  abridged.  ^ Ibid.,  p.  323. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


471 


any  of  those  vaster  and  wilder  and  more  ideal  attributes 
with  which  the  human  imagination  elsewhere  has  in- 
vested him.  Muller,  in  short,  was  absolutely  unphiloso- 
phical.  His  intensely  private  and  practical  conception 
of  his  relations  with  the  Deity  continued  the  traditions 
of  the  most  primitive  human  thought.^  When  we  com- 
pare a mind  like  his  with  such  a mind  as,  for  example, 
Emerson’s  or  Philhps  Brooks’s,  we  see  the  range  which 
the  religious  consciousness  covers. 

There  is  an  immense  literature  relating  to  answers  to 
petitional  prayer.  The  evangelical  journals  are  filled 

* I cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  quoting  an  expression  of  an  even 
more  primitive  style  of  religious  thought,  which  I find  in  Arber’s  English 
Garland,  vol.  vii.  p.  440.  Robert  Lyde,  an  English  sailor,  along  with  an 
English  boy,  being  prisoners  on  a Freneh  ship  in  1689,  set  upon  the  crew,  of 
seven  Frenchmen,  killed  two,  made  the  other  five  prisoners,  and  brought 
home  the  ship.  Lyde  thus  describes  how  in  this  feat  he  found  his  God  a 
very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble  : — 

“ With  the  assistance  of  God  I kept  my  feet  when  they  three  and  one 
more  did  strive  to  throw  me  down.  Feeling  the  Frenchman  which  hung 
about  my  middle  hang  very  heavy,  I said  to  the  boy,  ‘ Go  round  the  bin- 
nacle, and  knock  down  that  man  that  hangeth  on  my  back.’  So  the  boy 
did  strike  him  one  blow  on  the  head  which  made  him  fall.  . . . Then  I 
looked  about  for  a marlin  spike  or  anything  else  to  strike  them  withal.  But 
seeing  nothing,  I said,  ‘ Lord  ! what  shall  I do  ? ’ Then  casting  up  my 
eye  upon  my  left  side,  and  seeing  a marlin  spike  hanging,  I jerked  my  right 
arm  and  took  hold,  and  struck  the  point  four  times  about  a quarter  of  an 
inch  deep  into  the  skull  of  that  man  that  had  hold  of  my  left  arm.  [One 
of  the  Frenchmen  then  hauled  the  marlin  spike  away  from  him.]  But 
through  God’s  wonderful  providence  ! it  either  fell  out  of  his  hand,  or 
else  he  threw  it  down,  and  at  this  time  the  Almighty  God  gave  me  strength 
enough  to  take  one  man  in  one  hand,  and  throw  at  the  other’s  head  : and 
looking  about  again  to  see  anything  to  strike  them  withal,  but  seeing 
nothing,  I said,  ‘ Lord  I what  shall  I do  now  ? ’ And  then  it  pleased  God 
to  put  me  in  mind  of  my  knife  in  my  pocket.  And  although  two  of  the  men 
had  hold  of  my  right  arm,  yet  God  Almighty  strengthened  me  so  that  I 
put  my  right  hand  into  my  right  pocket,  drew  out  the  knife  and  sheath,  . . . 
put  it  between  my  legs  and  drew  it  out,  and  then  cut  the  man’s  throat  with 
it  that  had  his  back  to  my  breast  : and  he  immediately  dropt  down,  and 
scarce  ever  stirred  after.”  — I have  slightly  abridged  Lyde’s  nar.rative. 


472  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


with  such  answers,  and  books  are  devoted  to  the  subject,* 
but  for  us  Muller’s  case  will  suf&ce. 

A less  sturdy  beggar-bke  fashion  of  leading  the  prayer- 
ful life  is  followed  by  innumerable  other  Christians. 
Persistence  in  leaning  on  the  Almighty  for  support  and 
guidance  will,  such  persons  say,  bring  with  it  proofs, 
palpable  but  much  more  subtle,  of  his  presence  and  active 
influence.  The  following  description  of  a ‘ led  ’ life,  by 
a German  writer  whom  I have  already  quoted,  wordd  no 
doubt  appear  to  countless  Christians  in  every  country  as 
if  transcribed  from  their  own  personal  experience.  One 
finds  in  this  guided  sort  of  life,  says  Dr.  Hilty,  — 

“ That  books  and  words  (and  sometimes  people)  come  to 
one’s  cognizance  just  at  the  very  moment  in  which  one  needs 
them ; that  one  glides  over  great  dangers  as  if  with  shut  eyes, 
remaining  ignorant  of  what  would  have  terrified  one  or  led  one 
astray,  until  the  peril  is  past  — this  being  especially  the  case 
with  temptations  to  vanity  and  sensuality  ; that  paths  on  which 
one  ought  not  to  wander  are,  as  it  were,  hedged  off  with  thorns ; 
but  that  on  the  other  side  great  obstacles  are  suddenly  re- 
moved ; that  when  the  time  has  come  for  something,  one  sud- 
denly receives  a courage  that  formerly  failed,  or  perceives  the 
root  of  a matter  that  until  then  was  concealed,  or  discovers 
thoughts,  talents,  yea,  even  pieces  of  knowledge  and  insight, 
in  one’s  self,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  say  whence  they 
come ; finally,  that  persons  help  us  or  decline  to  help  us,  favor 
us  or  refuse  us,  as  if  they  had  to  do  so  against  their  will,  so 
that  often  those  indifferent  or  even  unfriendly  to  us  yield  us 
the  greatest  service  and  furtherance.  (God  takes  often  their 
worldly  goods,  from  those  whom  he  leads,  at  just  the  right 

^ As,  for  instance,  In  Answer  to  Prayer,  by  the  Bishop  of  Ripon  and 
others,  London,  1898  ; Touching  Incidents  and  Remarkable  Answers  to 
Prayer,  Harrisburg,  Pa.,  1898  (?)  ; H.  L.  Hastings  : The  Guiding  Hand, 
or  Providential  Direction,  illustrated  by  Authentic  Instances,  BostoP 
1898  (?). 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


473 


moment,  when  they  threaten  to  impede  the  effort  after  higher 
interests.) 

“ Besides  all  this,  other  noteworthy  things  come  to  pass,  of 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  give  account.  There  is  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  now  one  walks  continually  through  ‘ open  doors  ’ and 
on  the  easiest  roads,  with  as  little  care  and  trouble  as  it  is  pos- 
sible to  imagine. 

“ Furthermore  one  finds  one’s  self  settling  one’s  affairs  neither 
too  early  nor  too  late,  whereas  they  were  wont  to  be  spoiled  by 
untimeliness,  even  when  the  preparations  had  been  well  laid. 
In  addition  to  this,  one  does  them  with  perfect  tranquillity  of 
mind,  almost  as  if  they  were  matters  of  no  consequence,  like 
errands  done  by  us  for  another  person,  in  which  case  we  usually 
act  more  calmly  than  when  we  act  in  our  own  concerns.  Again, 
one  finds  that  one  can  wait  for  everything  patiently,  and  that 
is  one  of  life’s  great  arts.  One  finds  also  that  each  thing  comes 
duly,  one  thing  after  the  other,  so  that  one  gains  time  to  make 
one’s  footing  sure  before  advancing  farther.  And  then  every- 
thing occurs  to  us  at  the  right  moment,  just  what  we  ought  to 
do,  etc.,  and  often  in  a very  striking  way,  just  as  if  a third  per- 
son were  keeping  watch  over  those  things  which  we  are  in  easy 
danger  of  forgetting. 

“ Often,  too,  persons  are  sent  to  us  at  the  right  time,  to  offer 
or  ask  for  what  is  needed,  and  what  we  should  never  have  had 
the  courage  or  resolution  to  undertake  of  our  own  accord. 

“ Through  all  these  experiences  one  finds  that  one  is  kindly 
and  tolerant  of  other  people,  even  of  such  as  are  repulsive, 
negligent,  or  ill-willed,  for  they  also  are  instruments  of  good  in 
God’s  hand,  and  often  most  efficient  ones.  Without  these 
thoughts  it  would  be  hard  for  even  the  best  of  us  always  to 
keep  our  equanimity.  But  with  the  consciousness  of  divine 
guidance,  one  sees  many  a thing  in  life  quite  differently  from 
what  would  otherwise  be  possible. 

“ All  these  are  things  that  every  human  being  knows,  who 
has  had  experience  of  them ; and  of  which  the  most  speaking 
examples  could  be  brought  forward.  The  highest  resources  of 
worldly  wisdom  are  unable  to  attain  that  which,  under  divine 
leading,  comes  to  us  of  its  own  accord.”  ^ 

1 C.  Hilty  : Gliick,  Dritter  Theil,  1900,  pp.  92  ff. 


474  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


^Such  accounts  as  this  shade  away  into  others  where 
the  belief  is,  not  that  particular  events  are  tempered  more 
towardly  to  us  by  a superintending  providence,  as  a 
reward  for  our  reliance,  but  that  by  cultivating  the  con- 
tinuous sense  of  our  connection  with  the  power  that 
made  things  as  they  are,  we  are  tempered  more  towardly 
for  their  reception.  The  outward  face  of  nature  need 
not  alter,  but  the  expressions  of  meaning  in  it  alter.  It 
was  dead  and  is  ahve  again.  It  is  like  the  difference 
between  looking  on  a person  without  love,  or  upon  the 
same  person  with  love.  In  the  latter  case  intercourse 
springs  into  new  vitality.  So  when  one’s  affections  keep 
in  touch  with  the  divinity  of  the  world’s  authorship,  fear 
and  egotism  fall  away ; and  in  the  equanimity  that  fol- 
lows, one  finds  in  the  hours,  as  they  succeed  each  other, 
a series  of  purely  benignant  opportunities.  It  is  as  if  all 
doors  were  opened,  and  all  paths  freshly  smoothed.  We 
meet  a new  world  when  we  meet  the  old  world  in  the 
spirit  which  this  kind  of  prayer  infuses. 

Such  a spirit  was  that  of  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Epic- 
tetus.^ It  is  that  of  mind-curers,  of  the  transcendentalists, 
and  of  the  so-called  ^ liberal  ’ Christians.  As  an  expres- 

^ “ Good  Heaven  ! ” says  Epictetus,  “ any  one  thing  in  the  creation  is  suf- 
ficient to  demonstrate  a Providence,  to  a humble  and  grateful  mind.  The 
mere  possibility  of  producing  milk  from  grass,  cheese  from  milk,  and  wool 
from  skins  ; who  formed  and  planned  it  ? Ought  we  not,  whether  we  dig 
or  plough  or  eat,  to  sing  this  hymn  to  God  ? Great  is  God,  who  has  sup- 
plied us  with  these  instruments  to  till  the  ground  ; great  is  God,  who  has 
given  us  hands  and  instruments  of  digestion  ; who  has  given  us  to  grow 
insensibly  and  to  breathe  in  sleep.  These  things  we  ought  forever  to  cele- 
brate. . . . But  because  the  most  of  you  are  blind  and  insensible,  there 
must  be  some  one  to  fill  this  station,  and  lead,  in  behalf  of  all  men,  the 
hymn  to  God  ; for  what  else  can  I do,  a lame  old  man,  but  sing  hymns  to 
God  ? Were  I a nightingale,  I would  act  the  part  of  a nightingale  ; were 
I a swan,  the  part  of  a swan.  But  since  I am  a reasonable  creature,  it  is 
my  duty  to  praise  God  . . . and  I call  on  yon  to  join  the  same  song.” 
Works,  book  i.  ch.  xvi.,  Cartee-Higginson  translation,  abridged. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


476 


sion  of  itj  I will  quote  a page  from  one  of  Martineau’s 
sermons : — 

“ The  universe,  open  to  the  eye  to-day,  looks  as  it  did  a thou- 
sand years  ago  : and  the  morning  hymn  of  Milton  does  but  tell 
the  beauty  with  which  our  own  familiar  sun  dressed  the  earliest 
fields  and  gardens  of  the  world.  We  see  what  all  our  fathers 
saw.  And  if  we  cannot  find  God  in  your  house  or  in  mine, 
upon  the  roadside  or  the  margin  of  the  sea ; in  the  bursting 
seed  or  opening  flower;  in  the  day  duty  or  the  night  musing; 
in  the  general  laugh  and  the  secret  grief ; in  the  procession  of 
life,  _ver  entering  afresh,  and  solemnly  passing  by  and  drop- 
ping off ; I do  not  think  we  should  discern  him  any  more  on 
the  grass  of  Eden,  or  beneath  the  moonlight  of  Gethsemane. 
Depend  upon  it,  it  is  not  the  want  of  greater  miracles,  but  of 
the  soul  to  perceive  such  as  are  allowed  us  still,  that  makes  us 
push  all  the  sanctities  into  the  far  spaces  we  cannot  reach.  The 
devout  feel  that  wherever  God’s  hand  is,  there  is  miracle  : and 
it  is  simply  an  indevoutness  which  imagines  that  only  where 
miracle  is,  can  there  be  the  real  hand  of  God.  The  customs  of 
Heaven  ought  surely  to  be  more  sacred  in  our  eyes  than  its 
anomalies ; the  dear  old  ways,  of  which  the  Most  High  is  never 
tired,  than  the  strange  things  which  he  does  not  love  well 
enough  ever  to  repeat.  And  he  who  will  but  discern  beneath 
the  sun,  as  he  rises  any  morning,  the  supporting  Anger  of  the 
Almighty,  may  recover  the  sweet  and  reverent  surprise  with 
which  Adam  gazed  on  the  first  dawn  in  Paradise.  It  is  no 
outward  change,  no  shifting  in  time  or  place  ; but  only  the  lov- 
ing meditation  of  the  pure  in  heart,  that  can  reawaken  the 
Eternal  from  the  sleep  within  our  souls : that  can  render  him  a 
reality  again,  and  reassert  for  him  once  more  his  ancient  name 
of  ‘ the  Living  God.’  ” ^ 

When  we  see  aU  things  in  God,  and  refer  all  things  wi 
him,  we  read  in  common  matters  superior  expressions  of 

* James  MARTiUEAtr : end  of  the  sermon  ‘ Help  Thou  Mine  Unbelief,’  in 
Endeavours  after  a Christian  Life,  2d  series.  Compare  with  this  page  the 
extract  from  Yoysej  on  p.  276,  above,  and  those  from  Pascal  and  Madame 
Gnyon  on  p.  286. 


476  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


meaning.  The  deadness  with  which  custom  invests  the 
famihar  vanishes,  and  existence  as  a whole  appears  trans- 
figured. The  state  of  a mind  thus  awakened  from  tor- 
por is  well  expressed  in  these  words,  which  I take  from  a 
friend’s  letter  ; — 

“ If  we  occupy  ourselves  in  summing  up  all  the  mercies  and 
bounties  we  are  privileged  to  have,  we  are  overwhelmed  by 
their  number  (so  great  that  we  can  imagine  ourselves  unable  to 
give  ourselves  time  even  to  begin  to  review  the  things  we  may 
imagine  we  have  not').  We  sum  them  and  realize  that  we  are 
actually  hilled  with  God’s  hindness  ; that  we  are  surrounded 
by  bounties  upon  bounties,  without  which  all  would  fall. 
Should  we  not  love  it ; should  we  not  feel  buoyed  up  by  the 
Eternal  Arms  ? ” 

Sometimes  this  realization  that  facts  are  of  divine  send- 
ing, instead  of  being  habitual,  is  casual,  hke  a mystical 
experience.  Father  Gratry  gives  this  instance  from  his 
youthful  melancholy  period  : — 

“ One  day  I had  a moment  of  consolation,  because  I met 
with  something  which  seemed  to  me  ideally  perfect.  It  was  a 
poor  drummer  beating  the  tattoo  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  I 
walked  behind  him  in  returning  to  the  school  on  the  evening  of 
a holiday.  His  drum  gave  out  the  tattoo  in  such  a way  that,  at 
that  moment  at  least,  however  peevish  I were,  I could  find  no 
pretext  for  fault-finding.  It  was  impossible  to  conceive  more 
nerve  or  spirit,  better  time  or  measure,  mors  clearness  or  rich- 
ness, than  were  in  this  drumming.  Ideal  desire  could  go  no 
farther  in  that  direction.  I was  enchanted  and  consoled ; the 
perfection  of  this  wretched  act  did  me  good.  Good  is  at  least 
possible,  I said,  since  the  ideal  can  thus  sometimes  get  em- 
bodied.” ^ 

In  Senancour’s  novel  of  Obermann  a similar  transient 
lifting  of  the  veil  is  recorded.  In  Paris  streets,  on  a 
March  day,  he  comes  across  a flower  in  bloom,  a jonquil  = 
' Souvenirs  de  ma  Jeunesse,  1897,  p.  122. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


477 


“ It  was  the  strongest  expression  of  desire  : it  was  the  first 
perfume  of  the  year.  I felt  all  the  happiness  destined  for  man^ 
This  unutterable  harmony  of  souls,  the  phantom  of  the  ideal 
world,  arose  in  me  complete.  I never  felt  anything  so  great  or 
so  instantaneous.  I know  not  what  shape,  what  analogy,  what 
secret  of  relation  it  was  that  made  me  see  in  this  flower  a lim- 
itless beauty.  ...  I shall  never  inclose  in  a conception  this 
power,  this  immensity  that  nothing  will  express  ; this  form  that 
nothing  will  contain ; this  ideal  of  a better  world  which  one 
feels,  but  which,  it  seems,  nature  has  not  made  actual.”  ^ 

We  heard  in  previous  lectures  of  the  vivified  face  of 
the  world  as  it  may  appear  to  converts  after  their  awak- 
ening.^ As  a rule,  religious  persons  generally  assume 
that  whatever  natural  facts  connect  themselves  in  any 
way  with  their  destiny  are  significant  of  the  diAune  pur- 
poses with  them.  Through  prayer  the  purpose,  often  far 
from  obvious,  comes  home  to  them,  and  if  it  be  ‘ trial,’ 
strength  to  endure  the  trial  is  given.  Thus  at  all  stages 
of  the  prayerful  life  we  find  the  persuasion  that  in  the 
process  of  communion  energy  from  on  high  flows  in  to 
meet  demand,  and  becomes  operative  within  the  pheno- 
menal world.  So  long  as  this  operativeness  is  admitted 
to  be  real,  it  makes  no  essential  difference  whether  its 
immediate  effects  be  subjective  or  objective.  The  funda- 
mental religious  point  is  that  in  prayer,  spiritual  energy, 
which  otherwise  would  slumber,  does  become  active,  and 
spiritual  work  of  some  kind  is  effected  reaUy. 

So  much  for  Prayer,  taken  in  the  wide  sense  of  any 
hind  of  communion.  As  the  core  of  religion,  we  must 
return  to  it  in  the  next  lecture. 

The  last  aspect  of  the  religious  life  which  remains  for 

^ Op.  cit..  Letter  XXX. 

2 Above,  p.  248  ff.  Compare  the  withdrawal  of  expression  from  the 
world,  in  Melancholiacs,  p.  151. 


478  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


me  to  touch  upon  is  the  fact  that  its  manifestations  so 
frequently  connect  themselves  with  the  subconscious  part 
of  our  existence.  You  may  remember  what  I said  in 
my  opening  lecture  ^ about  the  prevalence  of  the  psycho- 
pathic temperament  in  religious  biography.  You  will  in 
point  of  fact  hardly  find  a religious  leader  of  any  kind 
in  whose  life  there  is  no  record  of  automatisms.  I speak 
not  merely  of  savage  priests  and  prophets,  whose  follow- 
ers regard  automatic  utterance  and  action  as  by  itself 
tantamount  to  inspiration,  I speak  of  leaders  of  thought 
and  subjects  of  intellectualized  experience.  Saint  Paul 
had  his  visions,  his  ecstasies,  his  gift  of  tongues,  small 
as  was  the  importance  he  attached  to  the  latter.  The 
whole  array  of  Christian  saints  and  heresiarchs,  including 
the  greatest,  the  Bernards,  the  Loyolas,  the  Luthers,  the 
Foxes,  the  Wesleys,  had  their  visions,  voices,  rapt  condi- 
tions, guiding  impressions,  and  ‘ openings.’  They  had 
these  things,  because  they  had  exalted  sensibility,  and  to 
such  things  persons  of  exalted  sensibility  are  liable.  In 
such  liability  there  lie,  however,  consequences  for  theology. 
Beliefs  are  strengthened  wherever  automatisms  corrob- 
orate them.  Incursions  from  beyond  the  transmarginal 
region  have  a peculiar  power  to  increase  conviction.  The 
inchoate  sense  of  presence  is  infinitely  stronger  than  con- 
ception, but  strong  as  it  may  be,  it  is  seldom  equal  to 
the  evidence  of  hallucination.  Saints  who  actually  see  or 
hear  their  Saviour  reach  the  acme  of  assurance.  Motor 
automatisms,  though  rarer,  are,  if  possible,  even  more 
convincing  than  sensations.  The  subjects  here  actually 
feel  themselves  played  upon  by  powers  beyond  their  will. 
The  evidence  is  dynamic;  the  God  or  spirit  moves  the 
very  organs  of  their  body.^ 

1 Above,  pp.  24,  25. 

® A friend  of  mine,  a first-rate  psychologist,  who  is  a subject  of  graphic 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


479 


The  great  field  for  this  sense  of  being  the  instrument 
of  a higher  power  is  of  course  ‘ inspiration.’  It  is  easy 
to  discriminate  between  the  religious  leaders  who  have 
been  habitually  subject  to  inspiration  and  those  who  have 
not.  In  the  teachings  of  the  Buddha,  of  Jesus,  of  Saint 
Paul  (apart  from  his  gift  of  tongues),  of  Saint  Augustine, 
of  Huss,  of  Luther,  of  Wesley,  automatic  or  semi-auto- 
matic composition  appears  to  have  been  only  occasional. 
In  the  Hebrew  prophets,  on  the  contrary,  in  Mohammed, 
in  some  of  the  Alexandrians,  in  many  minor  Catholic 
saints,  in  Fox,  in  Joseph  Smith,  something  like  it  appears 
to  have  been  frequent,  sometimes  habitual.  We  have 
distinct  professions  of  being  under  the  direction  of  a 
foreign  power,  and  serving  as  its  mouthpiece.  As  regards 
the  Hebrew  prophets,  it  is  extraordinary,  writes  an  author 
who  has  made  a careful  study  of  them,  to  see  — 

“ How,  one  after  another,  the  same  features  are  reproduced 
in  the  prophetic  books.  The  process  is  always  extremely  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  would  be  if  the  prophet  arrived  at  his 
insight  into  spiritual  things  by  the  tentative  efforts  of  his  own 

automatism,  tells  me  that  the  appearance  of  independent  actuation  in  the 
movements  of  his  arm,  when  he  writes  automatically,  is  so  distinct  that  it 
obliges  him  to  abandon  a psychophysical  theory  which  he  had  previously 
believed  in,  the  theory,  namely,  that  we  have  no  feeling  of  the  discharge 
downwards  of  our  voluntary  motor-centres.  We  must  normally  have  such 
a feeling,  he  thinks,  or  the  sense  of  an  absence  would  not  be  so  striking  as  it 
is  in  these  experiences.  Graphic  automatism  of  a fully  developed  kind  is 
rare  in  religious  history,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  goes.  Such  statementf 
as  Antonia  Bourignon’s,  that  “ I do  nothing  but  lend  my  hand  and  spirit  to 
another  power  than  mine,”  is  shown  by  the  context  to  indicate  inspiration 
rather  than  directly  automatic  writing.  In  some  eccentric  sects  this  latter 
occurs.  The  most  striking  instance  of  it  is  probably  the  bulky  volume  called, 
‘ Oahspe,  a new  Bible  in  the  Words  of  Jehovah  and  his  angel  ambassadors,’ 
Boston  and  London,  1891,  written  and  illustrated  automatically  by  Dr. 
Newbrough  of  New  York,  whom  I understand  to  be  now,  or  to  have  been 
lately,  at  the  head  of  the  spiritistic  community  of  Shalam  in  New  Mexico. 
The  latest  automatically  written  book  which  has  come  under  my  notice  is 
‘ Zertoulem’s  Wisdom  of  the  Ages,’  by  George  A.  Fuller,  Boston,  1901. 


480  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


genius.  There  is  something  sharp  and  sudden  about  it.  He 
can  lay  his  finger,  so  to  speak,  on  the  moment  when  it  came. 
And  it  always  comes  in  the  form  of  an  overpowering  force  from 
without,  against  which  he  struggles,  but  in  vain.  Listen,  for 
instance,  [to]  the  opening  of  the  book  of  Jeremiah.  Read 
through  in  like  manner  the  first  two  chapters  of  the  prophecy  of 
Ezekiel. 

“ It  is  not,  however,  only  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  that 
the  prophet  passes  through  a crisis  which  is  clearly  not  self- 
caused.  Scattered  all  through  the  prophetic  writings  are  ex- 
pressions which  speak  of  some  strong  and  irresistible  impulse 
coming  down  upon  the  prophet,  determining  his  attitude  to  the 
events  of  his  time,  constraining  his  utterance,  making  his  words 
the  vehicle  of  a higher  meaning  than  their  own.  For  instance, 
this  of  Isaiah’s : ‘ The  Lord  spake  thus  to  me  with  a strong 
hand,’  — an  emphatic  phrase  which  denotes  the  overmastering 
nature  of  the  impulse,  — ‘ and  instructed  me  that  I should  not 
walk  in  the  way  of  this  people.’  . . . Or  passages  like  this 
from  Ezekiel : ‘ The  hand  of  the  Lord  God  fell  upon  me,’  ‘ The 
hand  of  the  Lord  was  strong  upon  me.’  The  one  standing 
characteristic  of  the  prophet  is  that  he  speaks  with  the  au- 
thority of  Jehovah  himself.  Hence  it  is  that  the  prophets  one 
and  all  preface  their  addresses  so  confidently,  ‘The  Word  of 
the  Lord,’  or  ‘ Thus  saith  the  Lord.’  They  have  even  the 
audacity  to  speak  in  the  first  person,  as  if  Jehovah  himself  were 
speaking.  As  in  Isaiah  : ‘ Hearken  unto  me,  O Jacob,  and  Israel 
my  called  ; I am  He,  I am  the  First,  I also  am  the  last,’  — and  so 
on.  The  personality  of  the  prophet  sinks  entirely  into  the 
background ; he  feels  himself  for  the  time  being  the  mouth- 
piece of  the  Almighty.”  ^ 

“ We  need  to  remember  that  prophecy  was  a profession,  and 
that  the  prophets  formed  a professional  class.  There  were 
schools  of  the  prophets,  in  which  the  gift  was  regularly  culti- 
vated. A group  of  young  men  would  gather  round  some  com- 
manding figure  — a Samuel  or  an  Elisha  — and  would  not  only 
record  or  spread  the  knowledge  of  his  sayings  and  doings, 
but  seek  to  catch  themselves  something  of  his  inspiration.  It 

' W.  Sanday  : The  Oracles  of  God,  London,  1892,  pp.  49~56,  abridged. 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


481 


seems  that  music  played  its  part  in  their  exercises.  ...  It 
is  perfectly  clear  that  by  no  means  all  of  these  Sons  of  the 
prophets  ever  succeeded  in  acquiring  more  than  a very  small 
share  in  the  gift  which  they  sought.  It  was  clearly  possible 
to  ‘ counterfeit  ’ prophecy.  Sometimes  this  was  done  deliber- 
ately. . . . But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  in  all  cases  where 
a false  message  was  given,  the  giver  of  it  was  altogether  con- 
scious of  what  he  was  doing.”  ^ 

Here,  to  take  another  Jewish  case,  is  the  way  in  which 
Philo  of  Alexandria  describes  his  inspiration  : — 

“ Sometimes,  when  I have  come  to  my  work  empty,  I have 
suddenly  become  full ; ideas  being  in  an  invisible  manner 
showered  upon  me,  and  implanted  in  me  from  on  high  ; so  that 
through  the  influence  of  divine  inspiration,  I have  become 
greatly  excited,  and  have  known  neither  the  place  in  which  I 
was,  nor  those  who  were  present,  nor  myself,  nor  what  I was 
saying,  nor  what  I was  writing ; for  then  I have  been  conscious 
of  a richness  of  interpretation,  an  enjoyment  of  light,  a most 
penetrating  insight,  a most  manifest  energy  in  all  that  was  to 
be  done ; having  such  effect  on  my  mind  as  the  clearest  ocular 
demonstration  would  have  on  the  eyes.”  ^ 

If  we  turn  to  Islam,  we  find  that  Mohammed’s  revela- 
tions all  came  from  the  subconscious  sphere.  To  the 
question  in  what  way  he  got  them,  — 

“ Mohammed  is  said  to  have  answered  that  sometimes  he 
heard  a knell  as  from  a bell,  and  that  this  had  the  strongest 
effect  on  him ; and  when  the  angel  went  away,  he  had  received 
the  revelation.  Sometimes  again  he  held  converse  with  the  angel 
as  with  a man,  so  as  easily  to  understand  his  words.  The  later 
authorities,  however,  . . . distinguish  still  other  kinds.  In  the 
Itgan  (103)  the  following  are  enumerated : 1,  revelations  with 

^ Op.  cit.,  p.  91.  This  author  also  cites  Moses’s  and  Isaiah’s  commissions, 
as  given  in  Exodus,  chaps,  iii.  and  iv.,  and  Isaiah,  chap.  vi. 

® Quoted  by  Augustus  Clissold  : The  Prophetic  Spirit  in  Genius  and 
Madness,  1870,  p.  67.  Mr.  Clissold  is  a Swedenborgian.  Swedenborg’s 
case  is  of  course  the  palmary  one  of  audita  et  visa,  serving  as  a basis  of  reli- 
gious revelation. 


484  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


sound  of  bell,  2,  by  inspiration  of  the  holy  spirit  in  IVL’s  heart, 
3,  by  Gabriel  in  human  form,  4,  by  God  immediately,  either 
when  awake  (as  in  his  journey  to  heaven)  or  in  dream.  ...  In 
Almawahib  alladuniya  the  kinds  are  thus  given : 1,  Dream, 
2,  Inspiration  of  Gabriel  in  the  Prophet’s  heart,  3,  Grabriel 
taking  Dahya’s  form,  4,  with  the  bell-sound,  etc.,  6,  Gabriel  in 
propria  persona  (only  twice),  6,  revelation  in  heaven,  7,  God 
appearing  in  person,  but  veiled,  8,  God  revealing  himself  im- 
mediately without  veil.  Others  add  two  other  stages,  namely ; 
1,  Gabriel  in  the  form  of  still  another  man,  2,  God  showing 
himself  personally  in  dream.”  ^ 

In  none  of  these  cases  is  the  revelation  distinctly  mo- 
tor. In  the  case  of  Joseph  Smith  (who  had  prophetic 
revelations  innumerable  in  addition  to  the  revealed  trans- 
lation of  the  gold  plates  which  resulted  in  the  Book  of 
Mormon),  although  there  may  have  been  a motor  element, 
the  inspiration  seems  to  have  been  predominantly  sen- 
sorial. He  began  his  translation  by  the  aid  of  the  ‘ peep- 
stones  ’ which  he  found,  or  thought  or  said  that  he 
found,  with  the  gold  plates,  — apparently  a case  of  ‘ crys- 
tal gazing.’  For  some  of  the  other  revelations  he  used 
the  peep-stones,  but  seems  generally  to  have  asked  the 
Lord  for  more  direct  instruction.^ 

‘ Noldeke,  Geschichte  des  Qorans,  1860,  p.  16.  Compare  the  fuller  ac- 
count in  Sir  William  Muir’s  Life  of  Mahomet,  3d  ed.,  1894,  ch.  iii. 

* The  Mormon  theocracy  has  always  been  governed  by  direct  revelations 
accorded  to  tbe  President  of  tbe  Church  and  its  Apostles.  From  an  oblig- 
ing letter  written  to  me  in  1899  by  an  eminent  Mormon,  I quote  the  follow- 
ing extract : — 

“It  may  be  very  interesting  for  you  to  know  that  the  President  [Mr. 
Snow]  of  the  Mormon  Church  claims  to  have  had  a number  of  revelations 
■'^ery  recently  from  heaven.  To  explain  fully  what  these  revelations  are, 
it  is  necessary  to  know  that  we,  as  a people,  believe  that  the  Church  of 
Jesus  Christ  has  again  been  established  through  messengers  sent  from 
heaven.  This  Church  has  at  its  head  a prophet,  seer,  and  revelator,  who 
gives  to  man  God’s  holy  will.  Revelation  is  the  means  through  which  the 
will  of  God  is  declared  directly  and  in  fullness  to  man.  These  revela- 
tions are  got  through  dreams  of  sleep  or  in  waking  visions  of  the  mind,  by 


OTHER  CHARACTERISTICS 


483 


Other  revelations  are  described  as  ‘ openings  ’ — Fox’s, 
for  example,  were  evidently  of  the  kind  known  in  spirit- 
istic circles  of  to-day  as  ‘ impressions.’  As  all  effective 
initiators  of  change  must  needs  live  to  some  degree  upon 
this  psychopathic  level  of  sudden  perception  or  convic- 
tion of  new  truth,  or  of  impulse  to  action  so  obsessive 
that  it  must  be  worked  off,  I will  say  nothing  more 
about  so  very  common  a phenomenon. 

When,  in  addition  to  these  phenomena  of  inspiration, 
we  take  religious  mysticism  into  the  account,  when  we 
recall  the  striking  and  sudden  unifications  of  a discordant 
self  which  we  saw  in  conversion,  and  when  we  review 
the  extravagant  obsessions  of  tenderness,  purity,  and  self- 
severity met  with  in  saintliness,  we  cannot,  I think,  avoid 
the  conclusion  that  in  religion  we  have  a department  of 
human  nature  with  unusually  close  relations  to  the  trans- 
marginal or  subliminal  region.  If  the  word  ‘ subliminal  ’ 
is  offensive  to  any  of  you,  as  smelling  too  much  of  psychi- 
cal research  or  other  aberrations,  call  it  by  any  other 
name  you  please,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  level  of  full 
sunlit  consciousness.  Call  this  latter  the  A-region  of 
personality,  if  you  care  to,  and  call  the  other  the  B-region. 
The  B-region,  then,  is  obviously  the  larger  part  of  each 
of  us,  for  it  is  the  abode  of  everything  that  is  latent 
and  the  reservoir  of  everything  that  passes  unrecorded 
or  unobserved.  It  contains,  for  example,  such  things  as 
all  our  momentarily  inactive  memories,  and  it  harbors  the 
springs  of  all  our  obscurely  motived  passions,  impulses, 
likes,  dislikes,  and  prejudices.  Our  intuitions,  hypo- 
theses, fancies,  superstitions,  persuasions,  convictions,  and 
in  general  all  our  non-rationar  operations,  come  from  it. 

voices  without  visional  appearance,  or  by  actual  manifestations  of  the  Holy 
Presence  before  the  eye.  We  believe  that  God  has  come  in  person  and 
spoken  to  our  prophet  and  revelator.” 


484  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


It  is  the  source  of  our  dreams,  and  apparently  they  may 
return  to  it.  In  it  arise  whatever  mystical  experiences 
we  may  have,  and  our  automatisms,  sensory  or  motor; 
our  life  in  hypnotic  and  ‘ hypnoid  ’ conditions,  if  we  are 
subjects  to  such  conditions ; our  delusions,  fixed  ideas, 
and  hysterical  accidents,  if  we  are  hysteric  subjects ; our 
supra-normal  cognitions,  if  such  there  be,  and  if  we  are 
telepathic  subjects.  It  is  also  the  fountain-head  of  much 
that  feeds  our  religion.  In  persons  deep  in  the  religious 
life,  as  we  have  now  abundantly  seen,  — and  this  is  my 
conclusion,  — the  door  into  this  region  seems  unusually 
wide  open ; at  any  rate,  experiences  making  their  en- 
trance through  that  door  have  had  emphatic  influence  in 
shaping  religious  history. 

With  this  conclusion  I turn  back  and  close  the  circle 
which  I opened  in  my  first  lecture,  terminating  thus  the 
review  which  I then  announced  of  inner  religious  pheno- 
mena as  we  find  them  in  developed  and  articulate  human 
individuals.  I might  easily,  if  the  time  allowed,  multi- 
ply both  my  documents  and  my  discriminations,  but  a 
broad  treatment  is,  I believe,  in  itself  better,  and  the 
most  important  characteristics  of  the  subject  lie,  I think, 
before  us  already.  In  the  next  lecture,  which  is  also  the 
last  one,  we  must  try  to  draw  the  critical  conclusions 
which  so  much  material  may  suggest. 


LECTURE  XX 


CONCLUSIONS 


HE  material  of  our  study  of  human  nature  is  now 


spread  before  us ; and  in  this  parting  hour,  set  free 
from  the  duty  of  description,  we  can  draw  our  theoreti- 
cal and  practical  conclusions.  In  my  first  lecture,  de- 
fending the  empirical  method,  I foretold  that  whatever 
conclusions  we  might  come  to  could  be  reached  by  spir- 
itual judgments  only,  appreciations  of  the  significance 
for  life  of  religion,  taken  ‘ on  the  whole.’  Our  conclu- 
sions cannot  be  as  sharp  as  dogmatic  conclusions  would 
be,  but  I will  formulate  them,  when  the  time  comes,  as 
sharply  as  I can. 

Summing  up  in  the  broadest  possible  way  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  religious  life,  as  we  have  found  them, 
it  includes  the  following  beliefs  : — 

1.  That  the  visible  world  is  part  of  a more  spiritual 
universe  from  which  it  draws  its  chief  significance ; 

2.  That  union  or  harmonious  relation  with  that  higher 
universe  is  our  true  end  ; 

3.  That  prayer  or  inner  communion  with  the  spirit 
thereof  — be  that  spirit  ‘ God  ’ or  ‘ law  ’ — is  a process 
wherein  work  is  really  done,  and  spiritual  energy  flows 
in  and  produces  effects,  psychological  or  material,  within 
the  phenomenal  world. 

Rehgion  includes  also  the  following  psychological  char- 
acteristics : — 

4.  A new  zest  which  adds  itself  like  a gift  to  life,  and 
takes  the  form  either  of  lyrical  enchantment  or  of  appeal 
to  earnestness  and  heroism. 


486  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


5.  An  assurance  of  safety  and  a temper  of  peace,  and, 
in  relation  to  others,  a preponderance  of  loving  affections. 

In  illustrating  these  characteristics  by  documents,  we 
have  been  literally  bathed  in  sentiment.  In  re-reading 
my  manuscript,  I am  almost  appalled  at  the  amount  of 
emotionality  which  I find  in  it.  After  so  much  of  this, 
we  can  afford  to  be  dryer  and  less  sympathetic  in  the 
rest  of  the  work  that  lies  before  us. 

The  sentimentahty  of  many  of  my  documents  is  a 
consequence  of  the  fact  that  I sought  them  among  the 
extravagances  of  the  subject.  If  any  of  you  are  enemies 
of  what  our  ancestors  used  to  brand  as  enthusiasm,  and 
are,  nevertheless,  still  listening  to  me  now,  you  have 
probably  felt  my  selection  to  have  been  sometimes  almost 
perverse,  and  have  wished  I might  have  stuck  to  soberer 
examples.  I reply  that  I took  these  extremer  examples 
as  yielding  the  profounder  information.  To  learn  the 
secrets  of  any  science,  we  go  to  expert  specialists,  even 
though  they  may  be  eccentric  persons,  and  not  to  com- 
monplace pupils.  We  combine  what  they  tell  us  with 
the  rest  of  our  wisdom,  and  form  our  final  judgment 
independently.  Even  so  with  religion.  We  who  have 
pursued  such  radical  expressions  of  it  may  now  be  sure 
that  we  know  its  secrets  as  authentically  as  any  one  can 
know  them  who  learns  them  from  another ; and  we  have 
next  to  answer,  each  of  us  for  himself,  the  practical 
question  : what  are  the  dangers  in  this  element  of  life  ? 
and  in  what  proportion  may  it  need  to  be  restrained  by 
other  elements,  to  give  the  proper  balance  ? 

But  this  question  suggests  another  one  which  I will 
answer  immediately  and  get  it  out  of  the  way,  for  it  has 
more  than  once  already  vexed  us.^  Ought  it  to  be  as- 
^ For  example,  on  pages  135,  163,  333,  above. 


CONCLUSIONS 


487 


smned  that  in  all  men  the  mixture  of  religion  with  other 
elements  should  be  identical  ? Ought  it,  indeed,  to  be 
assumed  that  the  lives  of  all  men  should  show  identical 
religious  elements  ? In  other  words,  is  the  existence  of 
so  many  religious  types  and  sects  and  creeds  regrettable  ? 

To  these  questions  I answer  ‘ No  ’ emphatically.  And 
my  reason  is  that  I do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  that 
creatures  in  such  different  positions  and  with  such  differ- 
ent powers  as  human  individuals  are,  should  have  exactly 
the  same  functions  and  the  same  duties.  No  two  of 
us  have  identical  difficulties,  nor  should  we  be  expected 
to  work  out  identical  solutions.  Each,  from  his  pecul- 
iar angle  of  observation,  takes  in  a certain  sphere  of 
fact  and  trouble,  which  each  must  deal  with  in  a unique 
manner.  One  of  us  must  soften  himself,  another  must 
harden  himself;  one  must  yield  a point,  another  must 
stand  firm, — in  order  the  better  to  defend  the  position 
assigned  him.  If  an  Emerson  were  forced  to  be  a Wes- 
ley, or  a Moody  forced  to  be  a Whitman,  the  total  human 
consciousness  of  the  divine  would  suffer.  The  divine  can 
mean  no  single  quality,  it  must  mean  a group  of  quali- 
ties, by  being  champions  of  which  in  alternation,  different 
men  may  aU  find  worthy  missions.  Each  attitude  being 
a syllable  in  human  nature’s  total  message,  it  takes  the 
whole  of  us  to  spell  the  meaning  out  completely.  So  a 
^ god  of  battles  ’ must  be  allowed  to  be  the  god  for  one 
kind  of  person,  a god  of  peace  and  heaven  and  home,  the 
god  for  another.  We  must  frankly  recognize  the  fact 
that  we  live  in  partial  systems,  and  that  parts  are  not 
interchangeable  in  the  spiritual  life.  If  we  are  peevish 
and  jealous,  destruction  of  the  self  must  be  an  element  of 
our  religion ; why  need  it  be  one  if  we  are  good  and 
sympathetic  from  the  outset  ? If  we  are  sick  souls,  we 
require  a religion  of  deliverance ; but  why  think  so  much 


488  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


of  deliverance,  if  we  are  healthy-minded  ? ^ Unquestion- 
ably, some  men  have  the  completer  experience  and  the 
higher  vocation,  here  just  as  in  the  social  world ; but  for 
each  man  to  stay  in  his  own  experience,  whate’er  it  be, 
and  for  others  to  tolerate  him  there,  is  surely  best. 

But,  you  may  now  ask,  would  not  this  one-sidedness 
be  cured  if  we  should  all  espouse  the  science  of  religions 
as  our  own  rehgion  ? In  answering  this  question  I must 
open  again  the  general  relations  of  the  theoretic  to  the 
active  life. 

Knowledge  about  a thing  is  not  the  thing  itself.  You 
remember  what  Al-Ghazzah  told  us  in  the  Lecture  on 
Mysticism,  — that  to  understand  the  causes  of  drunken- 
ness, as  a physician  understands  them,  is  not  to  be  drunk. 
A science  might  come  to  understand  everything  about 
the  causes  and  elements  of  rehgion,  and  might  even 

1 From  this  point  of  view,  the  contrasts  between  the  healthy  and  the  mor- 
bid mind,  and  between  the  once-born  and  the  twice-born  types,  of  which 
X spoke  in  earlier  lectures  (see  pp.  162-167),  cease  to  he  the  radical  an- 
tagonisms which  many  think  them.  The  twice-born  look  down  upon  the 
rectilinear  consciousness  of  life  of  the  once-born  as  being  ‘ mere  morality,’ 
and  not  properly  religion.  “ Dr.  Channing,”  an  orthodox  minister  is  re- 
ported to  have  said,  “ is  excluded  from  the  highest  form  of  religious  life  by 
the  extraordinary  rectitude  of  his  character.”  It  is  indeed  true  that  the 
outlook  upon  life  of  the  twice-born  — holding  as  it  does  more  of  the  ele- 
ment of  evil  in  solution — is  the  wider  and  completer.  The  ‘heroic’  of 
‘ solemn  ’ way  in  which  life  comes  to  them  is  a ‘ higher  synthesis  ’ into  which 
healthy-mindedness  and  morbidness  both  enter  and  combine.  Evil  is  not 
evaded,  but  sublated  in  the  higher  religious  cheer  of  these  persons  (see  pp.  47- 
52,  362-365).  But  the  final  consciousness  which  each  type  reaches  of  union 
with  the  divine  has  the  same  practical  significance  for  the  individual ; and 
individuals  may  well  be  allowed  to  get  to  it  by  the  channels  which  lie  most 
open  to  their  several  temperaments.  In  the  cases  which  were  quoted  in 
Lecture  IV,  of  the  mind-cure  form  of  healthy-mindedness,  we  found  abundant 
examples  of  regenerative  process.  The  severity  of  the  crisis  in  this  process 
is  a matter  of  degree.  How  long  one  shall  continue  to  drink  the  conscious- 
ness of  evil,  and  when  one  shall  begin  to  short-circuit  and  get  rid  of  it,  are 
also  matters  of  amount  and  degree,  so  that  in  many  instances  it  is  quite  arbi- 
trary whether  we  class  the  individual  as  a once-born  or  a twice-born  subject. 


CONCLUSIONS 


489 


decide  which  elements  were  qualified,  by  their  general 
harmony  with  other  branches  of  knowledge,  to  be  con- 
sidered true ; and  yet  the  best  man  at  this  science  might 
be  the  man  who  found  it  hardest  to  be  personally  devout. 
Tout  savoir  c’est  tout  pardonner.  The  name  of  Renan 
would  doubtless  occur  to  many  persons  as  an  example  ol 
the  way  in  which  breadth  of  knowledge  may  make  one 
only  a dilettante  in  possibilities,  and  blunt  the  acuteness 
of  one’s  living  faith.^  If  religion  be  a function  by  which 
either  God’s  cause  or  man’s  cause  is  to  be  really  advanced, 
then  he  who  lives  the  life  of  it,  however  narrowly,  is 
a better  servant  than  he  who  merely  knows  about  it, 
however  much.  Knowledge  about  life  is  one  thing ; 
effective  occupation  of  a place  in  life,  with  its  dynamic 
currents  passing  through  your  being,  is  another. 

For  this  reason,  the  science  of  religions  may  not  be 
an  equivalent  for  living  religion ; and  if  we  turn  to  the 
inner  difficulties  of  such  a science,  we  see  that  a point 
comes  when  she  must  drop  the  purely  theoretic  attitude, 
and  either  let  her  knots  remain  uncut,  or  have  them  cut 
hy  active  faith.  To  see  this,  suppose  that  we  have  our 
science  of  religions  constituted  as  a matter  of  fact.  Sup- 
pose that  she  has  assimilated  all  the  necessary  historical 
material  and  distilled  out  of  it  as  its  essence  the  same  con- 
clusions which  I myself  a few  moments  ago  pronounced 
Suppose  that  she  agrees  that  religion,  wherever  it  is  an 
active  thing,  involves  a belief  in  ideal  presences,  and  a 
belief  that  in  our  prayerful  communion  with  them,^  work 
is  done,  and  something  real  comes  to  pass.  She  has  now 
to  exert  her  critical  activity,  and  to  decide  how  far,  in  the 
light  of  other  sciences  and  in  that  of  general  philosophy, 
such  beliefs  can  be  considered  true. 

^ Compare,  e.  g.,  the  quotation  from  Renan  on  p.  37,  above. 

® ‘ Prayerful  ’ taken  in  the  broader  sense  explained  above  on  pp.  463  ff. 


490  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


Dogmatically  to  decide  this  is  an  impossible  task.  Not 
only  are  the  other  sciences  and  the  philosophy  stUl  far 
from  being  completed,  but  in  their  present  state  we  find 
them  full  of  conflicts.  The  sciences  of  nature  know 
nothing  of  spiritual  presences,  and  on  the  whole  hold  no 
practical  commerce  whatever  with  the  idealistic  concep-| 
tions  towards  which  general  philosophy  inclines.  The  sci- 
entist, so-called,  is,  during  his  scientific  hours  at  least,  so 
materialistic  that  one  may  well  say  that  on  the  whole  the 
influence  of  science  goes  against  the  notion  that  religion 
should  be  recognized  at  aU.  And  this  antipathy  to  religion 
finds  an  echo  within  the  very  science  of  religions  itself. 
The  cultivator  of  this  science  has  to  become  acquainted 
with  so  many  groveling  and  horrible  superstitions  that  a 
presumption  easily  arises  in  his  mind  that  any  belief  that 
is  religious  probably  is  false.  In  the  ‘ prayerful  com- 
munion ’ of  savages  with  such  mumbo-jumbos  of  deities 
as  they  acknowledge,  it  is  hard  for  us  to  see  what  genu- 
ine spiritual  work  — even  though  it  were  work  relative 
only  to  their  dark  savage  obligations  — can  possibly  be 
done. 

The  consequence  is  that  the  conclusions  of  the  science 
of  religions  are  as  likely  to  be  adverse  as  they  are  to  be 
favorable  to  the  claim  that  the  essence  of  religion  is  true. 
There  is  a notion  in  the  air  about  us  that  religion  is 
probably  only  an  anachronism,  a case  of  ‘ survival,’  an 
atavistic  relapse  into  a mode  of  thought  which  humanity 
in  its  more  enlightened  examples  has  outgrown  ; and  this 
notion  our  religious  anthropologists  at  present  do  little  to 
counteract. 

This  view  is  so  widespread  at  the  present  day  that  I 
must  consider  it  with  some  explicitness  before  I pass  to 
my  own  conclusions.  Let  me  call  it  the  ‘ Survival  theory,’ 
for  brevity’s  sake. 


CONCLUSIONS 


491 


Tha-pivot-raimd_which  the  relig-ious  life,  as  we  have~~~) 
traced  it,  revolves,  is  the  interest  of  the  individual  in  his  ? 
private  personal  destiny.  Religion,  in  short,  is  a monu-  \ 
mental  chapter  in  the  history  of  human  egotism.  The 
gods  believed  in  — whether  by  crude  savages  or  by  men 
disciphned  intellectually  — agree  with  each  other  in 
recognizing  personal  calls.  Religious  thought  is  carried 
on  in  terms  of  personality,  this  being,  in  the  world  of 
religion,  the  one  fundamental  fact.  To-day,  quite  as 
much  as  at  any  previous  age,  the  rehgious  individual 
tells  you  that  the  divine  meets  him  on  the  basis  of  his 
personal  concerns. 

Science,  on  the  other  hand,  has  ended  by  utterly  repu- 
diating the  personal  point  of  view.  She  catalogues  her 
elements  and  records  her  laws  indifferent  as  to  what  pur- 
pose may  be  shown  forth  by  them,  and  constructs  her 
theories  quite  careless  of  their  bearing  on  human  anxie- 
ties and  fates.  Though  the  scientist  may  individually 
nourish  a religion,  and  be  a theist  in  his  irresponsible 
hours,  the  days  are  over  when  it  could  be  said  that  for 
Science  herself  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork.  Our  solar  system, 
with  its  harmonies,  is  seen  now  as  but  one  passing  case 
of  a certain  sort  of  moving  equilibrium  in  the  heavens, 
realized  by  a local  accident  in  an  appalling  wilderness  of 
worlds  where  no  life  can  exist.  In  a span  of  time  which 
as  a cosmic  interval  will  count  but  as  an  hour,  it  will  have 
ceased  to  be.  The  Darwinian  notion  of  chance  pro- 
duction, and  subsequent  destruction,  speedy  or  deferred, 
applies  to  the  largest  as  well  as  to  the  smallest  facts.  It 
is  impossible,  in  the  present  temper  of  the  scientific 
imagination,  to  find  in  the  driftings  of  the  cosmic  atoms, 
whether  they  work  on  the  universal  or  on  the  particular 
scale,  anything  but  a kind  of  aimless  weather,  doing  and 


492  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


undoing,  achieving  no  proper  history,  and  leaving  no 
result.  Nature  has  no  one  distinguishable  ultimate  tend*  I 
ency  vs^ith  which  it  is  possible  to  feel  a sympathy.  In^ 
the  vast  rhythm  of  her  processes,  as  the  scientific  mind 
now  follows  them,  she  appears  to  cancel  herself.  The 
books  of  natural  theology  which  satisfied  the  intellects  of 
our  grandfathers  seem  to  us  quite  grotesque,^  represent- 

^ How  was  it  ever  conceivable,  we  ask,  that  a man  like  Christian  Wolff, 
in  whose  dry-as-dust  head  all  the  learning  of  the  early  eighteenth  century 
was  concentrated,  should  have  preserved  such  a baby-like  faith  in  the  per- 
sonal and  human  character  of  Nature  as  to  expound  her  operations  as  he 
did  in  his  work  on  the  uses  of  natural  things  ? This,  for  example,  is  the 
account  he  gives  of  the  sun  and  its  utility:  — 

“We  see  that  God  has  created  the  sun  to  keep  the  changeable  conditions 
on  the  earth  in  such  an  order  that  living  creatures,  men  and  beasts,  may 
inhabit  its  surface.  Since  men  are  the  most  reasonable  of  creatures,  and 
able  to  infer  God’s  invisible  being  from  the  contemplation  of  the  world,  the 
sun  in  so  far  forth  contributes  to  the  primary  purpose  of  creation  : without 
it  the  race  of  man  could  not  be  preserved  or  continued.  . . . The  sun' 
makes  daylight,  not  only  on  our  earth,  but  also  on  the  other  planets  ; and 
daylight  is  of  the  utmost  utility  to  us  ; for  by  its  means  we  can  comraodi- 
ously  carry  on  those  occupations  which  in  the  night-time  would  either  be 
quite  impossible,  or  at  any  rate  impossible  without  our  going  to  the  expense 
of  artificial  light.  The  beasts  of  the  field  can  find  food  by  day  which  they 
would  not  be  able  to  find  at  night.  Moreover  we  owe  it  to  the  sunlight 
that  we  are  able  to  see  everything  that  is  on  the  earth’s  surface,  not  only 
near  by,  but  also  at  a distance,  and  to  recognize  both  near  and  far  things 
according  to  their  species,  which  again  is  of  manifold  use  to  us  not  only  in 
the  business  necessary  to  human  life,  and  when  we  are  traveling,  but  also 
for  the  scientific  knowledge  of  Nature,  which  knowledge  for  the  most  part 
depends  on  observations  made  with  the  help  of  sight,  and,  without  the  sun- 
shine, would  have  been  impossible.  If  any  one  would  rightly  impress  on  his 
mind  the  great  advantages  which  he  derives  from  the  sun,  let  him  imagine 
himself  living  through  only  one  month,  and  see  how  it  would  be  with  all 
his  undertakings,  if  it  were  not  day  but  night.  He  would  then  be  suffi- 
ciently convinced  out  of  his  own  experience,  especially  if  he  had  much  work 
to  carry  on  in  the  street  or  in  the  fields.  . . . From  the  sun  we  learn  to  recog- 
nize when  it  is  midday,  and  by  knowdng  this  point  of  time  exactly,  we  can 
set  our  clocks  right,  on  which  account  astronomy  owes  much  to  the  sun, 

. . . By  help  of  the  sun  one  can  find  the  meridian.  . . . But  the  meridian 
is  the  basis  of  our  sun-dials,  and  generally  speaking,  we  should  have  no 
sun-dials  if  we  had  no  sun.”  Veruiinftige  Gedanken  von  den  Absichtep 
der  natiirlichen  Dinge,  1782,  pp.  74-84. 


CONCLUSION  fe 


493 


ing,  as  they  did,  a God  who  conformed  the  largest  things 
of  nature  to  the  paltriest  of  our  private  wants.  The 

Or  read  the  account  of  God’s  beneficence  in  the  institution  of  “ the  great 
variety  throughout  the  world  of  men’s  faces,  voices,  and  handwriting,”  given 
in  Derham’s  Physico-theology,  a book  that  had  much  vogue  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  “ Had  Man’s  body,”  says  Dr.  Derham,  “ been  made  accord- 
ing to  any  of  the  Atheistical  Schemes,  or  any  other  Method  than  that  of 
the  infinite  Lord  of  the  World,  this  wise  Variety  would  never  have  been  : 
[but  Men’s  Faces  would  have  been  cast  in  the  same,  or  not  a very  different 
(Mould,  their  Organs  of  Speech  would  have  sounded  the  same  or  not  so 
jgreat  a Variety  of  Notes  ; and  the  same  Structure  of  Muscles  and  Nerves 
(would  have  given  the  Hand  the  same  Direction  in  Writing.  And  in  this 
(Case,  what  Confusion,  what  Disturbance,  what  Mischiefs  would  the  world 
leternally  have  lain  under  ! No  Security  could  have  been  to  our  persons  ; 
no  Certainty,  no  Enjoyment  of  our  Possessions  ; no  Justice  between  Man 
and  Man  ; no  Distinction  between  Good  and  Bad,  between  Friends  and 
Foes,  between  Father  and  Child,  Husband  and  Wife,  Male  or  Female  ; but 
[all  would  have  been  turned  topsy-turvy,  by  being  exposed  to  the  Malice  of 
!the  Envious  and  ill-Natured,  to  the  Fraud  and  Violence  of  Knaves  and  Rob- 
ibers,  to  the  Forgeries  of  the  crafty  Cheat,  to  the  Lusts  of  the  Effeminate 
and  Debauched,  and  what  not ! Our  Courts  of  Justice  can  abundantly 
testify  the  dire  Effects  of  Mistaking  Men’s  Faces,  of  counterfeiting  their 
Hands,  and  forging  Writings.  But  now  as  the  infinitely  wise  Creator  and 
Ruler  hath  ordered  the  Matter,  every  man’s  Face  can  distinguish  him  in 
the  Light,  and  his  Voice  in  the  Dark  ; his  Hand-writing  can  speak  for  him 
though  absent,  and  be  his  Witness,  and  secure  his  Contracts  in  future 
Generations.  A manifest  as  well  as  admirable  Indication  of  the  divine 
Superintendence  and  Management.” 

A God  so  careful  as  to  make  provision  even  for  the  unmistakable  signing 
of  bank  checks  and  deeds  was  a deity  truly  after  the  heart  of  eighteenth 
century  Anglicanism. 

I subjoin,  omitting  the  capitals,  Derham’s  ‘ Vindication  of  God  by  the 
Institution  of  Hills  and  Valleys,’  and  Wolff’s  altogether  culinary  account  of 
the  institution  of  Water  : — 

“The  uses,”  says  Wolff,  “which  water  serves  in  human  life  are  plain  to 
see  and  need  not  be  described  at  length.  Water  is  a universal  drink  of 
man  and  beasts.  Even  though  men  have  made  themselves  drinks  that  are 
artificial,  they  could  not  do  this  without  water.  Beer  is  brewed  of  water 
and  malt,  and  it  is  the  water  in  it  which  qnenches  thirst.  Wine  is  prepared 
from  grapes,  which  could  never  have  grown  without  the  help  of  water  ; and 
the  same  is  true  of  those  drinks  which  in  England  and  other  places  they 
produce  from  fruit.  . . . Therefore  since  God  so  planned  the  world  that 
men  and  beasts  should  live  upon  it  and  find  there  everything  required  for 
their  necessity  and  convenience,  he  also  made  water  as  one  means  whereby 


494  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


God  whom  science  recognizes  must  be  a God  of  universal 
laws  exclusively,  a God  who  does  a wholesale,  not  a retail! 
business.  He  cannot  accommodate  his  processes  to  the 

to  make  the  earth  into  so  excellent  a dwelling.  And  this  is  all  the  morel 
manifest  when  we  consider  the  advantages  which  we  obtain  from  this  same  I 
water  for  the  cleaning  of  our  household  utensils,  of  our  clothing,  and  of  i 
other  matters.  . . . When  one  goes  into  a grinding-mill  one  sees  that  the 
grindstone  must  always  be  kept  wet  and  then  one  will  get  a still  greater 
idea  of  the  use  of  water.”  j 

Of  the  hills  and  valleys,  Derham,  after  praising  their  beauty,  discourses 
as  follows  : “ Some  constitutions  are  indeed  of  so  happy  a strength,  and  so 
confirmed  an  health,  as  to  be  indifferent  to  almost  any  place  or  temperature 
of  the  air.  But  then  others  are  so  weakly  and  feeble,  as  not  to  be  able  to 
bear  one,  but  can  live  comfortably  in  another  place.  With  some  the  more 
subtle  and  finer  air  of  the  hills  doth  best  agree,  who  are  languishing  and; 
dying  in  the  feculent  and  grosser  air  of  great  towns,  or  even  the  warmer 
and  vaporous  air  of  the  valleys  and  waters.  But  contrariwise,  others  lan- 
guish on  the  hills,  and  grow  lusty  and  strong  in  the  warmer  air  of  the 
valleys. 

“So  that  this  opportunity  of  shifting  our  abode  from  the  hills  to  the' 
vales,  is  an  admirable  easement,  refreshment,  and  great  benefit  to  the  vale-; 
tudinarian,  feeble  part  of  mankind  ; affording  those  an  easy  and  comfort- 
able life,  who  would  otherwise  live  miserably,  languish,  and  pine  away. 

“ To  this  salutary  conformation  of  the  earth  we  may  add  another  great) 
convenience  of  the  hills,  and  that  is  affording  commodious  places  for  habi-, 
tation,  serving  (as  an  eminent  author  wordeth  it)  as  screens  to  keep  off  thel 
cold  and  nipping  blasts  of  the  northern  and  easterly  winds,  and  reflecting' 
the  benign  and  cherishing  sunbeams,  and  so  rendering  our  habitations  both) 
more  comfortable  and  more  cheerly  in  winter. 

“ Lastly,  it  is  to  the  hills  that  the  fountains  owe  their  rise  and  the  rivers 
their  conveyance,  and  consequently  those  vast  masses  and  lofty  piles  are) 
not,  as  they  are  charged,  such  rude  and  useless  excrescences  of  our  ill-* 
formed  globe  ; but  the  admirable  tools  of  nature,  contrived  and  ordered  by 
the  infinite  Creator,  to  do  one  of  its  most  useful  works.  For,  was  the  sur-' 
face  of  the  earth  even  and  level,  and  the  middle  parts  of  its  islands  and 
continents  not  mountainous  and  high  as  now  it  is,  it  is  most  certain  there 
could  be  no  descent  for  the  rivers,  no  conveyance  for  the  waters  ; but, 
instead  of  gliding  along  those  gentle  declivities  which  the  higher  lands  now 
afford  them  quite  down  to  the  sea,  they  would  stagnate  and  perhaps  stink,' 
and  also  drown  large  tracts  of  land. 

“ [Thus]  the  hills  and  vales,  though  to  a peevish  and  weary  traveler  they] 
may  seem  incommodious  and  troublesome,  yet  are  a noble  work  of  the 
great  Creator,  and  wisely  appointed  by  him  for  the  good  of  our  sublunary 
world.” 


I 


CONCLUSIONS 


496 


convenience  of  individuals.  The  bubbles  on  the  foam 
which  coats  a stormy  sea  are  floating  episodes,  made 
and  unmade  by  the  forces  of  the  wind  and  water.  Our 
private  selves  are  like  those  bubbles,  — epiphenomena, 
as  Clifford,  I believe,  ingeniously  called  th-em ; their  des- 
tinies weigh  nothing  and  determine  nothing  in  the  world’s 
irremediable  currents  of  events. 

You  see  how  natural  it  is,  from  this  point  of  view,  to 
treat  rehgion  as  a mere  survival,  for  religion  does  in  fact 
perpetuate  the  traditions  of  the  most  primeval  thought. 
To  coerce  the  spiritual  powers,  or  to  square  them  and  get 
them  on  our  side,  was,  during  enormous  tracts  of  time, 
the  one.  great  object  in  our  dealings  with  the  natural 
world.  For  our  ancestors,  dreams,  hallucinations,  reve- 
lations, and  cock-and-bull  stories  were  inextricably  mixed 
with  facts.  Up  to  a comparatively  recent  date  such  dis- 
tinctions as  those  between  what  has  been  verified  and 
what  is  only  conjectiired,  between  the  impersonal  and 
the  personal  aspects  of  existence,  were  hardly  suspected 
or  conceived.  Whatever  you  imagined  in  a lively  man- 
ner, whatever  you  thought  fit  to  be  true,  you  affirmed 
confidently ; and  whatever  you  affirmed,  youF  comrades 
believed.  Truth  was  what  had  not  yet  been  contradicted, 
most  things  were  taken  into  the  mind  from  the  point  of 
view  of  their  human  suggestiveness,  and  the  attention 
confined  itself  exclusively  to  the  aesthetic  and  dramatic 
aspects  of  events.^ 


* Until  the  seventeenth  century  this  mode  of  thought  prevailed.  One 
need  only  recall  the  dramatic  treatment  even  of  mechanical  questions  by 
Aristotle,  as,  for  example,  his  explanation  of  the  power  of  the  lever  to  make 
a small  weight  raise  a larger  one.  This  is  due,  according  to  Aristotle,  tc 
the  generally  miraculous  character  of  the  circle  and  of  all  circular  move- 
ment. The  circle  is  both  convex  and  concave  ; it  is  made  by  a fixed  point 
and  a moving  line,  which  contradict  each  other  ; and  whatever  moves  in  a 
circle  moves  in  opposite  directions.  Nevertheless,  movement  in  a circle  is 
the  most  ‘ natural  ’ movement ; and  the  long  arm  of  the  lever,  moving,  as 


496  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


How  indeed  could  it  be  otherwise  ? The  extraordinary 
value,  for  explanation  and  prevision,  of  those  mathemati- 


it  does,  in  the  larger  circle,  has  the  greater  amount  of  this  natural  motion, i 
and  consequently  requires  the  lesser  force.  Or  recall  the  explanation  by 
Herodotus  of  the  position  of  the  sun  in  winter  : It  moves  to  the  southi 
because  of  the  cold  which  drives  it  into  the  warm  parts  of  the  heavens  over! 
Libya.  Or  listen  to  Saint  Augustine’s  speculations  : “ Who  gave  to  chaff 
such  power  to  freeze  that  it  preserves  snow  buried  under  it,  and  such  power 
to  warm  that  it  ripens  green  fruit?  Who  can  explain  the  strange  pro-^ 
perties  of  fire  itself,  which  blackens  all  that  it  burns,  though  itself  bright,  jl 
and  which,  though  of  the  most  beautiful  colors,  discolors  almost  all  that 
it  touches  and  feeds  upon,  and  turns  blazing  fuel  into  grimy  cinders  ? . . . i 
Then  what  wonderful  properties  do  we  find  in  charcoal,  which  is  so  brittle  i 
that  a light  tap  breaks  it,  and  a slight  pressure  pulverizes  it,  and  yet  is  soil 
strong  that  no  moisture  rots  it,  nor  any  time  causes  it  to  decay.”  City  of  1 
God,  book  xxi.  ch.  iv. 

Such  aspects  of  things  as  these,  their  naturalness  and  unnaturalness,  the 
sympathies  and  antipathies  of  their  superficial  qualities,  their  eccentricities;' 
their  brightness  and  strength  and  destructiveness,  were  inevitably  the  ways; 
in  which  they  originally  fastened  our  attention.  | 

If  you  open  early  medical  books,  you  will  find  sympathetic  magic  invoked 
on  every  page.  Take,  for  example,  the  famous  vulnerary  ointment  attrib-, 
uted  to  Paracelsus.  For  this  there  were  a variety  of  receipts,  including! 
usually  human  fat,  the  fat  of  either  a bull,  a wild  boar,  or  a bear  ; powdered! 
earthworms,  the  usnia,  or  mossy  growth  on  the  weathered  skull  of  a hangedi 
criminal,  and  other  materials  equally  unpleasant  — the  whole  prepared  under 
the  planet  Venus  if  possible,  but  never  under  Mars  or  Saturn.  Then,  if  a 
splinter  of  wood,  dipped  in  the  patient’s  blood,  or  the  bloodstained  weapon 
that  wounded  him,  be  immersed  in  this  ointment,  the  wound  itself  being 
tightly  bound  up,  the  latter  infallibly  gets  well, — I quote  now  Van  Hebi 
mont’s  account,  — for  the  blood  on  the  weapon  or  splinter,  containing  in  it 
the  spirit  of  the  wounded  man,  is  roused  to  active  excitement  by  the  con- 
tact of  the  ointment,  whence  there  results  to  it  a full  commission  or  power 
to  cure  its  cousin-german,  the  blood  in  the  patient’s  body.  This  it  does  bj 
sucking  out  the  dolorous  and  exotic  impression  from  the  wounded  part. 
But  to  do  this  it  has  to  implore  the  aid  of  the  bull’s  fat,  and  other  portions 
of  the  unguent.  The  reason  why  bull’s  fat  is  so  powerful  is  that  the  bull 
at  the  time  of  slaughter  is  full  of  secret  reluctancy  and  vindictive  mur- 
murs, and  therefore  dies  with  a higher  flame  of  revenge  about  him  than 
any  other  animal.  And  thus  we  have  made  it  out,  says  this  author,  thal 
the  admirable  efficacy  of  the  ointment  ought  to  be  imputed,  not  to  anjj 
auxiliary  concurrence  of  Satan,  but  simply  to  the  energy  of  the  posthumous 
eharacter  of  Revenge  remaining  firmly  impressed  upon  the  blood  and  con-| 
creted  fat  in  the  unguent.  J.  B.  Van  Helmont  : A Ternary  of  Para^ 


CONCLUSIONS 


497 


3al  and  mechanical  modes  of  conception  which  science  uses, 
S7as  a result  that  could  not  possibly  have  been  expected 
11  advance.  Weight,  movement,  velocity,  direction,  posi* 
idon,  what  thin,  pallid,  uninteresting  ideas  ! How  could 
i;he  richer  animistic  aspects  of  Nature,  the  peculiarities 
ind  oddities  that  make  phenomena  picturesquely  striking 
)r  expressive,  fail  to  have  been  first  singled  out  and  fol- 
lowed by  philosophy  as  the  more  promising  avenue  to 
the  knowledge  of  Nature’s  life?  Well,  it  is  still  in  these 
richer  animistic  and  dramatic  aspects  that  religion  de- 


ioxes,  translated  by  Walter  Charleton,  London,  1650.  — I much  abridge 
the  original  in  my  citations. 

The  author  goes  on  to  prove  by  the  analogy  of  many  other  natural  facts 
.that  this  sympathetic  action  between  things  at  a distance  is  the  true  ration- 
ale of  the  case.  “ If,”  he  says,  “ the  heart  of  a horse,  slain  by  a witch, 
.taken  out  of  the  yet  reeking  carcase,  be  impaled  upon  an  arrow  and  roasted, 
[immediately  the  whole  witch  becomes  tormented  with  the  insufferable  pains 
and  cruelty  of  the  fire,  which  could  by  no  means  happen  unless  there  pre- 
ceded a conjunction  of  the  spirit  of  the  witch  with  the  spirit  of  the  horse, 
{n  the  reeking  and  yet  panting  heart,  the  spirit  of  the  witch  is  kept  cap- 
tive, and  the  retreat  of  it  prevented  by  the  arrow  transfixed.  Similarly 
hath  not  many  a murdered  carcase  at  the  coroner’s  inquest  suffered  a fresh 
hsemorrhage  or  eruentation  at  the  presence  of  the  assassin  ? — the  blood 
being,  as  in  a furious  fit  of  anger,  enraged  and  agitated  by  the  impress  of 
revenge  conceived  against  the  murderer,  at  the  instant  of  the  soul’s  com- 
pulsive exile  from  the  body.  So,  if  you  have  dropsy,  gout,  or  jaundice,  by 
including  some  of  your  warm  blood  in  the  shell  and  white  of  an  egg,  which, 
exposed  to  a gentle  heat,  and  mixed  with  a bait  of  flesh,  you  shall  give  to  a 
hungry  dog  or  hog,  the  disease  shall  instantly  pass  from  you  into  the  ani- 
mal, and  leave  you  entirely.  And  similarly  again,  if  you  burn  some  of  the 
milk  either  of  a cow  or  of  a woman,  the  gland  from  which  it  issued  will 
dry  up.  A gentleman  at  Brussels  had  his  nose  mowed  off  in  a combat,  but 
the  celebrated  surgeon  Tagliacozzus  digged  a new  nose  for  him  out  of  the 
skin  of  the  arm  of  a porter  at  Bologna.  About  thirteen  months  after  his 
return  to  his  own  country,  the  engrafted  nose  grew  cold,  putrefied,  and  in 
a few  days  dropped  off,  and  it  was  then  discovered  that  the  porter  had 
expired,  near  about  the  same  punctilio  of  time.  There  are  stiU  at  Bru-ssels 
eye-witnesses  of  this  occurrence,”  says  Van  Helmont ; and  adds,  “ I pray 
what  is  there  in  this  of  superstition  or  of  exalted  imagination  ? ” 

Modern  mind-cure  literature — the  works  of  Prentice  Mulford,  for  ex- 
ample  — is  full  of  sympathetic  magic. 


498  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


lights  to  dwell.  It  is  the  terror  and  beauty  o£  phenomenajj 
the  ‘ promise  ’ of  the  dawn  and  of  the  rainbow,  the  ‘ voice  * 
of  the  thunder,  the  ‘ gentleness  ’ of  the  smnmer  rain,  thej 
‘ sublimity  ’ of  the  stars,  and  not  the  physical  laws  which, 
these  things  follow,  by  which  the  religious  mind  still  con- 
tinues to  be  most  impressed ; and  just  as  of  yore,  the 
devout  man  tells  you  that  in  the  solitude  of  his  room  or 
of  the  fields  he  still  feels  the  divine  presence,  that  inflow- 
ings of  help  come  in  reply  to  his  prayers,  and  that  sacri- 
fices to  this  unseen  reality  fill  him  with  security  and 
peace. 

Pure  anachronism  ! says  the  survival-theory ; — anach- 
ronism for  which  deanthropomorphization  of  the  imagi- 
nation is  the  remedy  required  The  less  we  mix  the 
private  with  the  cosmic,  the  more  we  dwell  in  universal 
and  impersonal  terms,  the  truer  heirs  of  Science  we* 
become. 

In  spite  of  the  appeal  which  this  impersonality  of  the 
scientific  attitude  makes  to  a certain  magnanimity  of  tem- 
per, I believe  it  to  be  shallow,  and  I can  now  state  mj 
reason  in  comparatively  few  words.  That  reason  is  that, 
so  long  as  we  deal  with  the  cosmic  and  the  general,  we 
deal  only  with  the  symbols  of  reality,  but  as  soon  as  we 
deal  with  private  and  personal  phenomena  as  such,  we 
deal  with  realities  in  the  completest  sense  of  the  term. 
I think  I can  easily  make  clear  what  I mean  by  these 
words. 

The  world  of  our  experience  consists  at  all  times  of 
two  parts,  an  objective  and  a subjective  part,  of  which 
the  former  may  be  incalculably  more  extensive  than  the 
latter,  and  yet  the  latter  can  never  be  omitted  or  sup- 
pressed. The  objective  part  is  the  sum  total  of  what- 
soever at  any  given  time  we  may  be  thinking  of,  the 


CONCLUSIONS 


499 


subjective  part  is  the  inner  ^ state  ’ in  -which  the  thinking 
i conies  to  pass.  What  we  think  of  may  be  enormous,  — 
the  cosmic  times  and  spaces,  for  example,  — whereas  the 
[inner  state  may  be  the  most  fugitive  and  paltry  activity  of 
mind.  Yet  the  cosmic  objects,  so  far  as  the  experience 
^yields  them,  are  but  ideal  pictures  of  something  whose 
I existence  we  do  not  inwardly  possess  but  only  point  at 
outwardly,  while  the  inner  state  is  our  very  experience 
itself ; its  reality  and  that  of  our  experience  are  one.  A 
conscious  field  plus  its  object  as  felt  or  thought  of  plus 
I an  attitude  towards  the  object  plus  the  sense  of  a self  to 
whom  the  attitude  belongs  — such  a concrete  bit  of  per- 
! sonal  experience  may  be  a small  bit,  but  it  is  a solid  bit 
as  long  as  it  lasts  ; not  hollow,  not  a mere  abstract  ele- 
I ment  of  experience,  such  as  the  ‘ object  ’ is  when  taken 
all  alone.  It  is  a full  fact,  even  though  it  be  an  insignifi- 
cant fact ; it  is  of  the  hind  to  which  aU  realities  whatso- 
ever must  belong ; the  motor  currents  of  the  world  run 
through  the  like  of  it ; it  is  on  the  line  connecting  real 
events  with  real  events.  That  unsharable  feeling  which 
each  one  of  us  has  of  the  pinch  of  his  individual  destiny 
as  he  privately  feels  it  rolling  out  on  fortune’s  wheel 
may  be  disparaged  for  its  egotism,  may  be  sneered  at  as 
unscientific,  but  it  is  the  one  thing  that  fills  up  the  mea- 
sure of  our  concrete  actuality,  and  any  would-be  existent 
that  should  lack  such  a feeling,  or  its  analogue,  would  be 
a piece  of  reality  only  half  made  up.^ 

If  this  be  true,  it  is  absurd  for  science  to  say  that  the 
egotistic  elements  of  experience  should  be  suppressed. 
The  axis  of  reality  runs  solely  through  the  egotistic 

* Compare  Lotze’s  doctrine  that  the  only  meaning  we  can  attach  to  the 
notion  of  a thing  as  it  is  ‘ in  itself  ’ is  by  conceiving  it  as  it  is  for  itself ; 
L e.,  as  a piece  of  full  experience  with  a private  sense  of  * pinch  ’ or  innec 
activity  of  some  sort  going  with  it. 


600  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

places,  — they  are  strung  upon  it  like  so  many  heads. 
To  describe  the  world  with  all  the  various  feehngs  of 
the  individual  pinch  of  destiny,  all  the  various  spiritual 
attitudes,  left  out  from  the  description  — they  being  as 
describable  as  anything  else  — would  be  something  like 
offering  a printed  bill  of  fare  as  the  equivalent  for  a solid' 
meal.  Eeligion  makes  no  such  blunder.  The  individ- 
ual’s religion  may  be  egotistic,  and  those  private  realities 
which  it  keeps  in  touch  with  may  be  narrow  enough ; 
but  at  any  rate  it  always  remains  infinitely  less  hollow 
and  abstract,  as  far  as  it  goes,  than  a science  which 
prides  itself  on  taking  no  account  of  anything  private  at 
all. 

A bill  of  tare  with  one  real  raisin  on  it  instead  of  the 
word  ‘ raisin,’  with  one  real  egg  instead  of  the  word 
‘ egg,’  might  be  an  inadequate  meal,  but  it  would  at  least 
be  a commencement  of  reality.  The  contention  of  the 
survival-theory  that  we  ought  to  stick  to  non-personal 
elements  exclusively  seems  like  saying  that  we  ought  to 
be  satisfied  forever  with  reading  the  naked  bill  of  fare. 
I think,  therefore,  that  however  particular  questions  con- 
nected with  our  individual  destinies  may  be  answered, 
it  is  only  by  acknowledging  them  as  genuine  questions, 
and  living  in  the  sphere  of  thought  which  they  open 
up,  that  we  become  profound.  But  to  live  thus  is  to 
be  religious ; so  I unhesitatingly  repudiate  the  survival- 
theory  of  religion,  as  being  founded  on  an  egregious 
mistake.  It  does  not  follow,  because  our  ancestors  made 
so  many  errors  of  fact  and  mixed  them  with  their  reli-, 
gion,  that  we  should  therefore  leave  off  being  religiousj 
at  all.’  By  being  religious  we  establish  ourselves  in 

^ Even  the  errors  of  fact  may  possibly  turn  out  not  to  be  as  wholesale  as 
the  scientist  assumes.  We  saw  in  Lecture  IV  how  the  religions  conception' 
of  the  universe  seems  to  many  mind-curers  ‘ verified  ’ from  day  to  day  by 


CONCLUSIONS 


501 


possession  of^ultimate  reality  at  the  only  points  at  which 
reahty  is  given  us  to  guard.  Our  responsible  concern  is 
with  piijLprivate  destiny,  after  all. 

“You  see  now  whj^r~have"  “Seen  so  individualistic 
throughout  these  lectures,  and  why  I have  seemed  so 
bent  on  rehabilitating  the  element  of  feeling  in  religion 
and  subordinating  its  intellectual  part.  Individuality  is 
founded  in  feeling ; and  the  recesses  of  feeling,  the 
darker,  blinder  strata  of  character,  are  the  only  places  in 
the  world  in  which  we  catch  real  fact  in  the  making,  and 


their  experience  of  fact.  ‘ Experience  of  fact  ’ is  a field  with  so  many 
things  in  it  that  the  sectarian  scientist,  methodically  declining,  as  he  does, 
to  recognize  such  ‘ facts  ’ as  mind-curers  and  others  like  them  experience, 
otherwise  than  by  such  rude  heads  of  classification  as  ‘bosh,’  ‘rot,’  ‘folly,’ 
certainly  leaves  out  a mass  of  raw  fact  which,  save  for  the  industrious 
interest  of  the  religious  in  the  more  personal  aspects  of  reality,  would 
never  have  succeeded  in  getting  itself  recorded  at  all.  We  know  this  to 
be  true  already  in  certain  cases ; it  may,  therefore,  be  true  in  others  as  well. 
Miraculous  healings  have  always  been  part  of  the  supernaturalist  stock  in 
trade,  and  have  always  been  dismissed  by  the  scientist  as  figments  of  the 
imagination.  But  the  scientist’s  tardy  education  in  the  facts  of  hypnotism 
has  recently  given  him  an  apperceiving  mass  for  phenomena  of  this  order, 
and  he  consequently  now  allows  that  the  healings  may  exist,  provided  you 
expressly  call  them  effects  of  ‘ suggestion.’  Even  the  stigmata  of  the  cross 
on  Saint  Francis’s  hands  and  feet  may  on  these  terms  not  be  a fable. 
Similarly,  the  time-honored  phenomenon  of  diabolical  possession  is  on  the 
point  of  being  admitted  by  the  scientist  as  a fact,  now  that  he  has  the  name 
of  ‘ hystero-demouopathy  ’ by  which  to  apperceive  it.  No  one  can  foresee 
just  how  far  this  legitimation  of  occultist  phenomena  under  newly  found  sci- 
entist titles  may  proceed — even  ‘prophecy,’  even  ‘ levitation,*  might  creep 
into  the  pale. 

Thus  the  divorce  between  scientist  facts  and  religious  facts  may  not 
necessarily  be  as  eternal  as  it  at  first  sight  seems,  nor  the  personalism  and 
romanticism  of  the  world,  as  they  appeared  to  primitive  thinking,  be  mat- 
ters so  irrevocably  outgrown.  The  final  human  opinion  may,  in  short,  in 
some  manner  now  impossible  to  foresee,  revert  to  the  more  personal  style, 
just  as  any  path  of  progress  may  follow  a spiral  rather  than  a straight 
line.  If  this  were  so,  the  rigorously  impersonal  view  of  science  might  one 
day  appear  as  having  been  a temporarily  useful  eccentricity  rather  than 
the  definitively  triumphant  position  which  the  sectarian  scientist  at  present 
so  confidently  announces  it  to  be. 


602  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


directly  perceive  how  events  happen,  and  how  work  is 
actually  done.^  Compared  with  this  world  of  living  indi- 
vidualized feelings,  the  world  of  generalized  objects  which 
the  intellect  contemplates  is  without  solidity  or  life.  As 
in  stereoscopic  or  kinetoscopic  pictures  seen  outside  the 
instrument,  the  third  dimension,  the  movement,  the  vital 
element,  are  not  there.  We  get  a beautiful  picture  of 
an  express  train  supposed  to  be  moving,  but  where  in  the 
picture,  as  I have  heard  a friend  say,  is  the  energy  or 
the  fifty  miles  an  hour  ? ^ 

^ Hume’s  criticism  has  banished  causation  from  the  world  of  physical 
objects,  and  ‘ Science  ’ is  absolutely  satisfied  to  define  cause  in  terms  of 
concomitant  change  — read  Mach,  Pearson,  Ostwald.  The  ‘original’  of 
the  notion  of  causation  is  in  our  inner  personal  experience,  and  only  there 
can  causes  in  the  old-fashioned  sense  be  directly  observed  and  described. 

* When  I read  in  a religious  paper  words  like  these  : “ Perhaps  the  best 
thing  we  can  say  of  God  is  that  he  is  the  Inevitable  Inference,”  I recognize 
the  tendency  to  let  religion  evaporate  in  intellectual  terms.  Would  mar- 
tyrs have  sung  in  the  flames  for  a mere  inference,  however  inevitable  it 
might  be  ? Original  religious  men,  like  Saint  Francis,  Luther,  Behmen,  have 
usually  been  enemies  of  the  intellect’s  pretension  to  meddle  with  religious 
things.  Yet  the  intellect,  everywhere  invasive,  shows  everywhere  its  shal- 
lowing effect.  See  how  the  ancient  spirit  of  Methodism  evaporates  under 
those  wonderfully  able  rationalistic  booklets  (which  every  one  should  read) 
of  a philosopher  like  Professor  Bowne  (The  Christian  Revelation,  The 
Christian  Life,  The  Atonement : Cincinnati  and  New  York,  1898,1899, 1900). 
See  the  positively  expulsive  purpose  of  philosophy  properly  so  called  : — 

“ Religion,”  writes  M.  Vacherot  (La  Religion,  Paris,  1869,  pp.  313,  436, 
et  passim),  “answers  to  a transient  state  or  condition,  not  to  a permanent 
determination  of  human  nature,  being  merely  an  expression  of  that  stage  of 
the  human  mind  which  is  dominated  by  the  imagination.  . . . Christianity 
has  but  a single  possible  final  heir  to  its  estate,  and  that  is  scientific  philo. 
sophy.” 

In  a still  more  radical  vein.  Professor  Ribot  (Psychologie  des  Senti- 
ments, p.  310)  describes  the  evaporation  of  religion.  He  sums  it  up  in  a 
single  formula  — the  ever-growing  predominance  of  the  rational  intellec-  ? 
tual  element,  with  the  gradual  fading  out  of  the  emotional  element,  this 
latter  tending  to  enter  into  the  group  of  purely  intellectual  sentiments. 
“Of  religious  sentiment  properly  so  called,  nothing  survives  at  last  save  ' 
a vague  respect  for  the  unknowable  x which  is  a last  relic  of  the  fear,  and  ; 
a certain  attraction  towards  the  ideal,  which  is  a relic  of  the  love,  that 
characterized  the  earlier  periods  of  religious  growth.  To  state  this  more 


CONCLUSIONS 


503 


I Let  US  agree,  then,  that  Religion,  occupying_Iieirself 
"with^iersanal  destinies  and  keeping  thus  in  contact  "with 
the  only  absolute  realities  which  we  know,  must  neces- 
sarily play  an  eternal' part  in  human  history^  The  next 
thing  to  decide  is  what  she  reveals  about  those  destinies, 
or  whether  indeed  she  reveals  anything  distinct  enough 
to  be  considered  a general  message  to  mankind.  We 
have  done  as  you  see,  with  our  preliminaries,  and  our 
final  summing  up  can  now  begin. 

1 am  well  aware  that  after  all  the  palpitating  docu- 
ments which  I have  quoted,  and  all  the  perspectives  of 
emotion-inspiring  institution  and  behef  that  my  pre- 
vious lectures  have  opened,  the  dry  analysis  to  which  I 
now  advance  may  appear  to  many  of  you  like  an  anti- 
1 climax,  a tapering-off  and  flattening  out  of  the  subject, 
^instead  of  a crescendo  of  interest  and  result.  I said 
awhile  ago  that  the  religious  attitude  of  Protestants  ap- 
pears poverty-stricken  to  the  Cathohc  imagination.  Still 
more  poverty-stricken,  I fear,  may  my  final  summing  up 
of  the  subject  appear  at  first  to  some  of  you.  On  which 
'account  I pray  you  now  to  bear  this  point  in  mind, 
that  in  the  present  part  of  it  I am  expressly  trying  to 
reduce  religion  to  its  lowest  admissible  terms,  to  that 
! minimum,  free  from  individualistic  excrescences,  which  all 
religions  contain  as  their  nucleus,  and  on  which  it  may 
be  hoped  that  all  religious  persons  may  agree.  That 

simply,  religion  tends  to  turn  into  religious  philosophy.  — These  are  psychologic 
i cally  entirely  different  things,  the  one  being  a theoretic  construction  of  ratio- 
cination, whereas  the  other  is  the  living  work  of  a group  of  persons,  or  of  a 
, great  inspired  leader,  calling  into  play  the  entire  thinking  and  feeling  organ- 
I ism  of  man.” 

j I find  the  same  failure  to  recognize  that  the  stronghold  of  religion  lies  in 
I individuality  in  attempts  like  those  of  Professor  Baldwin  (Mental  Develop- 
iment,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,  eh.  x.)  and  Mr.  H.  R.  Marshall 
(Instinct  and  Reason,  chaps,  viii.  to  xii.)  to  make  it  a purely  ‘ conservative 
social  force.’ 


604  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


established,  we  should  have  a result  which  might  be 
small,  but  would  at  least  be  sohd  ; and  on  it  and  round 
it  the  ruddier  additional  behefs  on  which  the  different 
individuals  make  their  venture  might  be  grafted,  and 
flourish  as  richly  as  you  please.  I shall  add  my  own 
over-behef  (which  will  be,  I confess,  of  a somewhat  pah 
lid  kind,  as  befits  a critical  philosopher),  and  you  will, 
I hope,  also  add  your  over-behefs,  and  we  shall  soon  be 
in  the  varied  world  of  concrete  religious  constructions 
once  more.  For  the  moment,  let  me  dryly  pursue  the 
analytic  part  of  the  task. 

Both  thought  and  feeling  are  determinants  of  conduct, 
and  the  same  conduct  may  be  determined  either  by  feel- 
ing or  by  thought.  When  we  survey  the  whole  field  of 
rehgion,  we  find  a great  variety  in  the  thoughts  that  have 
prevailed  there ; but  the  feelings  on  the  one  hand  and 
the  conduct  on  the  other  are  almost  always  the  same,  for 
Stoic,  Christian,  and  Buddhist  saints  are  practically  indis- 
tinguishable in  their  lives.  The  theories  which  Religion 
generates,  being  thus  variable,  are  secondary ; and  if  you  ^ 
wish  to  grasp  her  essence,  you  must  look  to  the.  fe.elings ; 
and  the  conduct  as  being  the  more  constant  elements. 
It  is  between  these  two  elements  that  the  short  circuit 
exists  on  which  she  carries  on  her  principal  business,! 
while  the  ideas  and  symbols  and  other  institutions  form 
loop-lines  which  may  be  perfections  and  improvements, 
and  may  even  some  day  all  be  united  into  one  harmoni- 
ous system,  but  which  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  organs 
with  an  indispensable  function,  necessary  at  all  times  for 
religious  life  to  go  on.  This  seems  to  me  the  first  con- 
clusion which  we  are  entitled  to  draw  from  the  phenomena! 
we  have  passed  in  review.  i 

The  next  step  is  to  characterize  the  feelings.  To  what 
psychological  order  do  they  belong? 


CONCLUSIONS 


505 


The  resultant  outcome  of  them  is  in  any  case  what 
Kant  calls  a ‘ sthenic  ’ affection,  an  excitement  of  the 
cheerful,  expansive,  ‘ dynamogenic  ’ order  which,  like  any 
tonic,  freshens  our  vital  powers.  In  almost  every  lec- 
ture, but  especially  in  the  lectures  on  Conversion  and  on 
Saintliness,  we  have  seen  how  this  emotion  overcomes  tem- 
peramental melancholy  and  imparts  endurance  to  the  Sub- 
I ject,  or  a zest,  or  a meaning,  or  an  enchantment  and  glory 
I to  the  common  objects  of  life.^  The  name  of  ^ faith- 
state,’  by  which  Professor  Leuba  designates  it,  is  a good 
one.^  It  is  a biological  as  well  as  a psychological  con- 
I dition,  and  Tolstoy  is  absolutely  accurate  in  classing 
faith  among  the  forces  hy  which  men  live?  The  total 
1 absence  of  it,  anhedonia,'*  means  collapse. 

I The  faith-state  may  hold  a very  minimum  of  intel- 
’ lectual  content.  We  saw  examples  of  this  in  those  sud- 
I den  raptures  of  the  divine  presence,  or  in  such  mystical 
j seizures  as  Dr.  Bucke  described.®  It  may  be  a mere 
vague  enthusiasm,  half  spiritual,  half  vital,  a courage, 
and  a feehng  that  great  and  wondrous  things  are  in  the 
air.® 


1 Compare,  for  instance,  pages  203,  219,  223,  226,  249  to  256,  275  to 
278. 

2 American  Journal  of  Psychology,  vii.  345. 

^ Above,  p.  184. 

^ Above,  p.  145. 

® Above,  p.  400. 

® Example  : Henri  Perreyve  writes  to  Gratry  : “ I do  not  know  how  to 
deal  with  the  happiness  which  you  aroused  in  me  this  morning.  It  over- 
whelms me  ; I want  to  do  something,  yet  I can  do  nothing  and  am  fit  for 
; nothing.  ...  I would  fain  do  great  things”  Again,  after  an  inspiring 
interview,  he  writes  : “ I went  homewards,  intoxicated  with  joy,  hope,  and 
strength.  I wanted  to  feed  upon  my  happiness  in  solitude,  far  from  all 
men.  It  was  late  ; but,  unheeding  that,  I took  a mountain  path  and  went 
i on  like  a madman,  looking  at  the  heavens,  regardless  of  earth.  Suddenly 
an  instinct  made  me  draw  hastily  back  — I was  on  the  very  edge  of  a 
I precipice,  one  step  more  and  I must  have  fallen.  I took  fright  and  gave  up 


606  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


When,  however,  a positive  intellectual  content  is  asso- 
ciated  with  a faith-state,  it  gets  invincibly  stamped  in 
upon  belief,'  and  this  explains  the  passionate  loyalty  of 
religious  persons  everywhere  to  the  minutest  details  of 
their  so  widely  differing  creeds.  Taking  creeds  and 
faith-state  together,  as  forming  ‘ religions,’  and  treating 
these  as  purely  subjective  phenomena,  without  regard  to 
the  question  of  their  ‘ truth,’  we  are  obliged,  on  account  of 
their  extraordinary  mfluence  upon  action  and  endurance, 
to  class  them  amongst  the  most  important  biological 
functions  of  mankind.  Their  stimulant  and  anaesthetic 
effect  is  so  great  that  Professor  Leuba,  in  a recent 
article,^  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  so  long  as  men  can  use 
their  God,  they  care  very  little  who  he  is,  or  even  whether 
he  is  at  all.  “ The  truth  of  the  matter  can  be  put,”  says 
Leuba,  “ in  this  way  : Qod  is  not  known,  he  is  not  under- 
stood ; he  is  used  — sometimes  as  meat-purveyor,  some- 
times as  moral  support,  sometimes  as  friend,  sometimes  as 
aja  object  of  love.  If  he  proves  himself  useful,  the  re- 

my  nocturnal  promenade.”  A.  Gratry  : Henri  Perreyve,  London,  1872, 
pp.  92,  89. 

This  primacy,  in  the  faith-state,  of  vague  expansive  impulse  over  direc- 
tion is  well  expressed  in  Walt  Whitman’s  lines  (Leaves  of  Grass,  1872, 
p.  190)  : — 

“ 0 to  confront  night,  storms,  hunger,  ridicule,  accidents,  rebuffs,  as  the  trees  and 
animals  do.  . . . 

Dear  Camerado  ! I confess  I have  urged  you  onward  with  me,  and  still  urge 
you,  without  the  least  idea  what  is  our  destination. 

Or  whether  we  shall  be  victorious,  or  utterly  quell’d  and  defeated.” 

This  readiness  for  great  things,  and  this  sense  that  the  world  by  its 
importance,  wonderfulness,  etc.,  is  apt  for  their  production,  would  seem  to 
be  the  undifferentiated  germ  of  all  the  higher  faiths.  Trust  in  our  own 
dreams  of  ambition,  or  in  our  country’s  expansive  destinies,  and  faitb  in  the 
providence  of  God,  all  have  their  source  in  that  onrush  of  our  sanguine  im- 
pulses, and  in  that  sense  of  the  exceedingness  of  the  possible  over  the  real. 

^ Compare  Leuba  ; Loc.  cit.,  pp.  346-349. 

® The  Contents  of  Religious  Consciousness,  in  The  Monist,  xi.  536,  July, 
1901. 


CONCLUSIONS 


607 


ligious  consciousness  asks  for  no  more  than  that.  Does 
God  really  exist  ? How  does  he  exist  ? What  is  he  ? 
are  so  many  irrelevant  questions.  Not  God,  but  life, 

I more  life,  a larger,  richer,  more  satisfying  life,  is,  in  the 
last  analysis,  the  end  of  religion.  The  love  of  life,  at 
i any  and  every  level  of  development,  is  the  religious  im- 
! pulse.”  ^ 

At  this  purely  subjective  rating,  therefore,  Eeligion 
must  be  considered  vindicated  in  a certain  way  from  the 
attacks  of  her  critics.  It  would  seem  that  she  cannot 
be  a mere  anachronism  and  survival,  but  must  exert  a 
permanent  function,  whether  she  be  with  or  without 
intellectual  content,  and  whether,  if  she  have  any,  it  be 
true  or  false. 

i 

We  must  next  pass  beyond  the  point  of  view  of  merely 
subjective  utihty,  and  make  inquiry  into  the  intellectual 
content  itseE. 

First,  is  there,  under  all  the  discrepancies  of  the  creeds, 
a common  nucleus  to  which  they  bear  their  testimony 
unanimously  ? 

And  second,  ought  we  to  consider  the  testimony  true  ? 

I will  take  up  the  first  question  first,  and  answer  it 
immediately  in  the  affirmative.  The  warring  gods  and 

* Loc.  eit.,  pp.  571,  572,  abridged.  See,  also,  this  writer’s  extraordinarily 
true  criticism  of  the  notion  that  religion  primarily  seeks  to  solve  the  intel- 
lectual mystery  of  the  world.  Compare  what  W.  Bendek  says  (in  his 
Wesen  der  Religion,  Bonn,  1888,  pp.  85,  38)  : “ Not  the  question  about  God, 
and  not  the  inquiry  into  the  origin  and  purpose  of  the  world  is  religion,  but 
the  question  about  Man.  All  religious  views  of  life  are  anthropocentric.” 
“ Religion  is  that  activity  of  the  human  impulse  towards  self-preservation 
by  means  of  which  Man  seeks  to  carry  his  essential  vital  purposes  through 
against  the  adverse  pressure  of  the  world  by  raising  himself  freely  towards 
the  world’s  ordering  and  governing  powers  when  the  limits  of  his  own 
strength  are  reached.”  The  whole  book  is  little  more  than  a development 
' of  these  words. 


608  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

formulas  of  the  various  religious  Jo  indeed  cancel  each 
other,  but  there  is  a certain  uniform  dehverance  in  which 
religions  all  appear  to  meet.  It  consists  of  two  parts : — 

1.  An  uneasiness ; and 

2.  Its  solution. 

1.  The  uneasiness,  reduced  to  its  simplest  terms,  is  a 
sense  that  there  is  something  wrong  about  us  as  we 
naturally  stand. 

2.  The  solution  is  a sense  that  we  are  saved  from  the 
wrongness  by  making  proper  connection  with  the  higher 
powers. 

In  those  more  developed  minds  which  alone  we  are 
studying,  the  wrongness  takes  a moral  character,  and  the 
salvation  takes  a mystical  tinge.  I think  we  shall  keep 
well  within  the  limits  of  what  is  common  to  all  such 
minds  if  we  formulate  the  essence  of  their  religious  ex- 
perience in  terms  like  these  : — 

The  individual,  so  far  as  he  suffers  from  his  wrongness 
and  criticises  it,  is  to  that  extent  consciously  beyond  it, 
and  in  at  least  possible  touch  with  something  higher,  if 
anything  higher  exist.  Along  with  the  wrong  part  there 
is  thus  a better  part  of  him,  even  though  it  may  be  but  a 
most  helpless  germ.  With  which  part  he  should  identify 
his  real  being  is  by  no  means  obvious  at  this  stage ; but 
when  stage  2 (the  stage  of  solution  or  salvation)  arrives,^ 
the  man  identifies  his  real  being  with  the  germinal  higher 
part  of  himself ; and  does  so  in  the  following  way.  He 
becomes  conscious  that  this  higher  part  is  conterminous 
and  continuous  with  a more  of  the  same  quality,  which 
is  operative  in  the  universe  outside  of  him,  and  which  he 
can  keep  in  working  touch  with,  and  in  a fashion  get  on 
board  of  and  save  himself  when  all  his  lower  being  has 
gone  to  pieces  in  the  wreck, 

^ Remember  that  for  some  men  it  arrives  suddenly,  for  others  gradually, 
whilst  others  again  practically  enjoy  it  all  their  life. 


CONCLUSIONS 


509 


It  seems  to  me  that  all  the  phenomena  are  accurately 
describable  in  these  very  simple  general  terms.^  They 
allow  for  the  divided  self  and  the  struggle ; they  involve 
the  change  of  personal  centre  and  the  surrender  of  the 
lower  self ; they  express  the  appearance  of  exteriority 
of  the  helping  power  and  yet  account  for  our  sense  of 
union  with  it;^  and  they  fully  justify  our  feelings  of 
security  and  joy.  There  is  probably  no  autobiographic 
document,  among  all  those  which  I have  quoted,  to 
which  the  description  will  not  well  apply.  One  need 
only  add  such  specific  details  as  will  adapt  it  to  various 
theologies  and  various  personal  temperaments,  and  one 
will  then  have  the  various  experiences  reconstructed  in 
their  individual  forms. 

So  far,  however,  as  this  analysis  goes,  the  experiences 
are  only  psychological  phenomena.  They  possess,  it  is 
true,  enormous  biological  worth.  Spiritual  strength  really 
increases  in  the  subject  when  he  has  them,  a new  life 
opens  for  him,  and  they  seem  to  him  a place  of  conflux 
where  the  forces  of  two  universes  meet ; and  yet  this 
may  be  nothing  hut  his  subjective  way  of  feeling  things, 
a mood  of  his  own  fancy,  in  spite  of  the  effects  pro- 
duced. I now  turn  to  my  second  question  ; What  is  the 
objective  ‘ truth  ’ of  their  content 

The  part  of  the  content  concerning  which  the  question 

1 TKe  practical  difficulties  are  : 1,  to  ‘ realize  the  reality  ’ of  one’s  higher 
part  ; 2,  to  identify  one’s  self  with  it  exclusively;  and  3,  to  identify  it  with 
all  the  rest  of  ideal  being. 

2 “ When  mystical  activity  is  at  its  height,  we  find  consciousness  possessed 
by  the  sense  of  a being  at  once  excessive  and  identical  with  the  self  : great 
enough  to  be  God  ; interior  enough  to  be  me.  The  ‘ objectivity  ’ of  it  ought 
in  that  case  to  be  called  excessivity,  rather,  or  exceedingness.”  R:^c:^.tac  ; 
Essai  sur  les  fondements  de  la  conscience  mystique,  1897,  p.  46. 

® The  word  ‘ truth  ’ is  here  taken  to  mean  something  additional  to  bare 
value  for  life,  although  the  natural  propensity  of  man  is  to  believe  that 
whatever  has  great  value  for  life  is  thereby  certified  as  true. 


610  THE  VAKIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

of  truth  most  pertinently  arises  is  that  ‘ more  of  the 
same  quality  ’ with  which  our  own  higher  self  appears  in 
the  experience  to  come  into  harmonious  working  relation. 
Is  such  a ‘ more  ’ merely  our  own  notion,  or  does  it  really 
exist  ? If  so,  in  what  shape  does  it  exist  ? Does  it  act, 
as  well  as  exist  ? And  in  what  form  should  we  conceive 
of  that  ‘ union  ’ with  it  of  which  religious  geniuses  are  so 
convinced  ? 

It  is  in  answering  these  questions  that  the  various  theo- 
logies perform  their  theoretic  work,  and  that  their  diver- 
gencies most  come  to  hght.  They  aU  agree  that  the  ^ more  ’ 
really  exists ; though  some  of  them  hold  it  to  exist  in  the 
shape  of  a personal  god  or  gods,  while  others  are  satis- 
fied to  conceive  it  as  a stream  of  ideal  tendency  embedded 
in  the  eternal  structure  of  the  world.  They  all  agree, 
moreover,  that  it  acts  as  well  as  exists,  and  that  some- 
thing really  is  effected  for  the  better  when  you  throw  your 
life  into  its  hands.  It  is  when  they  treat  of  the  experi- 
ence of  ‘ union  ’ with  it  that  their  speculative  differences 
appear  most  clearly.  Over  this  point  pantheism  and 
theism,  nature  and  second  birth,  works  and  grace  and 
karma,  immortality  and  reincarnation,  rationalism  and 
mysticism,  carry  on  inveterate  disputes. 

At  the  end  of  my  lecture  on  Philosophy^  I held  out 
the  notion  bhat  an  impartial  science  of  religions  might 
sift  out  from  the  midst  of  their  discrepancies  a common 
body  of  doctrine  which  she  might  also  formulate  in  terms 
to  which  physical  science  need  not  object.  This,  I said, 
she  might  adopt  as  her  own  reconciling  hypothesis,  and 
recommend  it  for  general  belief.  I also  said  that  in  my 
last  lecture  I should  have  to  try  my  own  hand  at  framing 
such  an  hypothesis. 

The  time  has  now  come  for  this  attempt.  Who  says 
1 Above,  p.  455. 


CONCLUSIONS 


5U 


* hypothesis  ’ renounces  the  ambition  to  he  coercive  in  his 
arguments.  The  most  I can  do  is,  accordingly,  to  offer 
something  that  may  fit  the  facts  so  easily  that  your  scien- 
tific logic  will  find  no  plausible  pretext  for  vetoing  your 
impulse  to  welcome  it  as  true. 

The  ‘ more,’  as  we  called  it,  and  the  meaning  of  our 
‘ union  ’ with  it,  form  the  nucleus  of  our  iaquh-y.  Into 
what  definite  description  can  these  words  be  translated, 
and  for  what  definite  facts  do  they  stand?  It  would 
never  do  for  us  to  place  ourselves  offhand  at  the  posi- 
tion of  a particular  theology,  the  Christian  theology,  for 
example,  and  proceed  immediately  to  define  the  ‘ more  ’ 
as  Jehovah,  and  the  ‘ union  ’ as  his  imputation  to  us  of 
the  righteousness  of  Christ.  That  would  be  unfair  to 
other  religions,  and,  from  our  present  standpoint  at  least, 
would  be  an  over-behef. 

We  must  begin  by  using  less  particularized  terms; 
and,  since  one  of  the  duties  of  the  science  of  rehgioas 
is  to  keep  rehgion  in  connection  with  the  rest  of  science, 
we  shall  do  well  to  seek  first  of  all  a way  of  describing 
the  ‘more,’  which  psychologists  may  also  recognize  as 
real.  The  subconscious  self  is  nowadays  a well-accredited 
psychological  entity;  and  I believe  that  in  it  we  have 
exactly  the  mediating  term  required.  Apart  from  aU 
religious  considerations,  there  is  actually  and  literally 
more  life  in  our  total  soul  than  we  are  at  any  time  aware 
of.  The  exploration  of  the  transmarginal  field  has  hardly 
yet  been  seriously  undertaken,  but  what  Mr.  Myers  said 
in  1892  in  his  essay  on  the  Subliminal  Consciousness  ^ is 

^ Proceedings  of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  vol.  vii.  p.  305.  Foi' 
a full  statement  of  Mr.  Myers’s  views,  I may  refer  to  his  posthumous  work, 
' Human  Personality  in  the  Light  of  Recent  Research,’  which  is  already  an- 
nounced hy  Messrs.  Longmans,  Green  & Co.  as  being  in  press.  Mr.  Myers 
5or  the  first  time  proposed  as  a general  psychological  problem  the  explora- 


512  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


as  true  as  when  it  was  first  written : “ Each  of  us  is  in 
reality  an  abiding  psychical  entity  far  more  extensive 
than  he  knows  — an  individuality  which  can  never  express 
itself  completely  through  any  corporeal  manifestation. 
The  Self  manifests  through  the  organism ; but  there  is 
always  some  part  of  the  Self  unmanifested  ; and  always, 
as  it  seems,  some  power  of  organic  expression  in  abey- 
ance or  reserve.”  ^ Much  of  the  content  of  this  larger 
background  against  which  our  conscious  being  stands  out 
in  relief  is  insignificant.  Imperfect  memories,  silly  jin- 
gles, inhibitive  timidities,  ^ dissolutive  ’ phenomena  of  vari- 
ous sorts,  as  Myers  calls  them^  enter  into  it  for  a large 
part.  But  in  it  many  of  the  performances  of  genius 
seem  also  to  have  their  origin  ; and  in  our  study  of  con- 
version, of  mystical  experiences,  and  of  prayer,  we  have 
seen  how  striking  a part  invasions  from  this  region  play 
in  the  religious  life. 

Let  me  then  propose,  as  an  hypothesis,  that  whatever 
it  may  be  on  its  farther  side,  the  ‘ more  ’ with  which 
in  religious  experience  we  feel  ourselves  connected  is  on 
its  hither  side  the  subconscious  continuation  of  our  con- 
scious life.  Starting  thus  with  a recognized  psycholo- 
gical fact  as  our  basis,  we  seem  to  preserve  a contact 
with  ^ science  ’ which  the  ordinary  theologian  lacks.  At 
the  same  time  the  theologian’s  contention  that  the  reli- 
gious man  is  moved  by  an  external  power  is  vindicated, 
for  it  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  invasions  from  the 

tion  of  the  subliminal  region  of  consciousness  throughout  its  whole  extent, 
and  made  the  first  methodical  steps  in  its  topography  by  treating  as  a natural 
series  a mass  of  subliminal  facts  hitherto  considered  only  as  curious  isolated 
facts,  and  subjecting  them  to  a systematized  nomenclature.  How  impor- 
tant this  exploration  will  prove,  future  work  upon  the  path  which  Myers 
has  opened  can  alone  show.  Compare  my  paper  : ‘ Frederic  Myers’s  Ser- 
vices to  Psychology,’  in  the  said  Proceedings,  part  xlii..  May,  1901. 

^ Compare  the  inventory  given  above  on  pp.  483-4,  and  also  what  i'~  said 
of  the  subconscious  self  on  pp.  233-236,  240-242. 


CONCLUSIONS 


513 


subconscious  region  to  take  on  objective  appearances, 
and  to  suggest  to  the  Subject  an  external  control.  In 
the  religious  life  the  control  is  felt  as  ‘ higher  ’ ; but 
since  on  our  hypothesis  it  is  primarily  the  higher  facul- 
ties of  our  own  hidden  mind  which  are  controlhng,  the 
sense  of  union  with  the  power  beyond  us  is  a sense  of 
something,  not  merely  apparently,  but  literally  true. 

This  doorway  into  the  subject  seems  to  me  the  best 
one  for  a science  of  religions,  for  it  mediates  between  a 
number  of  different  points  of  view.  Yet  it  is  only  a 
doorway,  and  difficulties  present  themselves  as  soon  as 
we  step  through  it,  and  ask  how  far  our  transmarginal 
consciousness  carries  us  if  we  follow  it  on  its  remoter 
side.  Here  the  over-beliefs  begin : here  mysticism  and 
the  conversion-rapture  and  V edantism  and  transcendental 
idealism  bring  in  their  monistic  interpretations  ^ and  tell 
us  that  the  finite  self  rejoins  the  absolute  self,  for  it  was 
always  one  with  God  and  identical  with  the  soul  of  the 
world.^  Here  the  prophets  of  all  the  different  religions 

' Compare  above,  pp.  419  £E. 

2 One  more  expression  of  this  belief,  to  increase  the  reader’s  familiarity 
with  the  notion  of  it  : — 

“ If  this  room  is  full  of  darkness  for  thousands  of  years,  and  you  come  in 
and  begin  to  weep  and  wail,  ‘ Oh,  the  darkness,’  will  the  darkness  vanish  ? 
Bring  the  light  in,  strike  a match,  and  light  comes  in  a moment.  So  what 
good  will  it  do  you  to  think  all  your  lives,  ‘ Oh,  I have  done  evil,  I have 
made  many  mistakes  ’ ? It  requires  no  ghost  to  tell  us  that.  Bring  in  the 
light,  and  the  evil  goes  in  a moment.  Strengthen  the  real  nature,  build  up 
yourselves,  the  effulgent,  the  resplendent,  the  ever  pure,  call  that  up  in 
every  one  whom  you  see.  I wish  that  every  one  of  us  had  come  to  such  a 
state  that  even  when  we  see  the  vilest  of  human  beings  we  can  see  the  God 
within,  and  instead  of  condemning,  say,  ‘ Rise,  thou  effulgent  One,  rise  thou 
who  art  always  pure,  rise  thou  birthless  and  deathless,  rise  almighty,  and 
manifest  your  nature.’  . . . This  is  the  highest  prayer  that  the  Advaita 
teaches.  This  is  the  one  prayer  : remembering  our  nature.”  . . . “ Why 
does  man  go  out  to  look  for  a God  ? ...  It  is  yoixr  own  heart  beating,  and 
you  did  not  know,  you  were  mistaking  it  for  something  external.  He,  near- 
est of  the  near,  my  own  self,  the  reality  of  my  own  life,  my  body  and  my 


514  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


come  with  their  visions,  voices,  raptures,  and  other  open- 
ings, supposed  by  each  to  authenticate  his  own  peculiar 
faith. 

Those  of  us  who  are  not  personally  favored  with  such 
specific  revelations  must  stand  outside  of  them  altogether 
and,  for  the  present  at  least,  decide  that,  since  they  cor- 
roborate incompatible  theological  doctrines,  they  neu- 
tralize one  another  and  leave  no  fixed  result.  If  we 
follow  any  one  of  them,  or  if  we  follow  philosophical 
theory  and  embrace  monistic  pantheism  on  non-mystical 
grounds,  we  do  so  in  the  exercise  of  our  individual 
freedom,  and  build  out  our  religion  in  the  way  most 
congruous  with  our  personal  susceptibilities.  Among 
these  susceptibilities  intellectual  ones  play  a decisive  part. 
Although  the  rehgious  question  is  primarily  a question 
of  life,  of  living  or  not  hving  in  the  higher  union  which 
opens  itself  to  us  as  a gift,  yet  the  spiritual  excitement  in 
which  the  gift  appears  a real  one  will  often  fail  to  be 
aroused  in  an  individual  until  certain  particular  intel- 
lectual beliefs  or  ideas  which,  as  we  say,  come  home  to 
him,  are  touched.^  These  ideas  will  thus  be  essential  to 

soul.  — I am  Thee  and  Thou  art  Me.  That  is  your  own  nature.  Assert 
it,  manifest  it.  Not  to  become  pure,  you  are  pure  already.  You  are  not  to 
be  perfect,  you  are  that  already.  Every  good  thought  which  you  think  or 
act  upon  is  simply  tearing  the  veil,  as  it  were,  and  the  purity,  the  Infinity, 
the  God  behind,  manifests  itself  — the  eternal  Subject  of  everything,  the 
eternal  Witness  in  this  universe,  your  own  Self.  Knowledge  is,  as  it  were,  a 
lower  step,  a degradation.  We  are  It  already  ; how  to  know  It  ? ” Swami 
VivEKANANDA  : Addresses,  No.  XII.,  Practical  Vedanta,  part  iv.  pp.  172, 
174,  London,  1897  ; and  Lectures,  The  Real  and  the  Apparent  Man,  p.  24, 
abridged. 

^ For  instance,  here  is  a case  where  a person  exposed  from  her  birth  to 
Christian  ideas  had  to  wait  till  they  came  to  her  clad  in  spiritistic  formulas 
before  the  saving  experience  set  in  : — 

“For  myself  I can  say  that  spiritualism  has  saved  me.  It  was  revealed 
to  me  at  a critical  moment  of  my  life,  and  without  it  I don’t  know  what  I 
should  have  done.  It  has  taught  me  to  detach  myself  from  worldly  things 
and  to  place  my  hope  in  things  to  come.  Through  it  I have  learned  to  see  in 


CONCLUSIONS 


516 


that  individual’s  religion  ; — which  is  as  much  as  to  say 
that  over-beliefs  in  various  directions  are  absolutely  indis- 
pensable, and  that  we  should  treat  them  with  tenderness 
and  tolerance  so  long  as  they  are  not  intolerant  them- 
selves. As  I have  elsewhere  written,  the  most  interest- 
ing and  valuable  things  about  a man  are  usually  his  over- 
beliefs. 

Disregarding  the  over-beliefs,  and  confining  ourselves 
to  what  is  common  and  generic,  we  have  in  the  fact  that 
the  conscious  person  is  continuous  with  a wider  self 
through  which  saving  experiences  come^  a positive  con- 
tent of  religious  experience  which,  it  seems  to  me,  is  liter- 
ally  and  objectively  true  as  far  as  it  goes.  If  I now 
proceed  to  state  my  own  hypothesis  about  the  farther 
limits  of  this  extension  of  our  personality,  I shall  be 
offering  my  own  over-belief  — though  I know  it  will 
appear  a sorry  under-belief  to  some  of  you  — for  which 
I can  only  bespeak  the  same  indulgence  which  in  a con- 
verse case  I should  accord  to  yours. 

The  further  limits  of  our  being  plunge,  it  seems  to  me, 
into  an  altogether  other  dimension  of  existence  from  the 
sensible  and  merely  ‘ understandable  ’ world.  Name  it  the 
mystical  region,  or  the  supernatural  region,  whichever  you 

all  men,  even  in  those  most  criminal,  even  in  those  from  whom  I have  most 
suffered,  undeveloped  brothers  to  whom  I owed  assistance,  love,  and  for- 
giveness. I have  learned  that  I must  lose  my  temper  over  nothing,  despise 
no  one,  and  pray  for  all.  Most  of  all  I have  learned  to  pray  ! And  although 
I have  still  much  to  learn  in  this  domain,  prayer  ever  brings  me  more 
strength,  consolation,  and  comfort.  I feel  more  than  ever  that  I have  only 
made  a few  steps  on  the  long  road  of  progress  ; but  I look  at  its  length 
without  dismay,  for  I have  confidence  that  the  day  will  come  when  all  my 
efforts  shall  be  rewarded.  So  Spiritualism  has  a great  place  in  my  life,  in- 
deed it  holds  the  first  place  there.”  Flournoy  Collection. 

1 “ The  infiuence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  exquisitely  called  the  Comforter,  is 
a matter  of  actual  experience,  as  solid  a reality  as  that  of  electro-magnet- 
ism.” W.  C.  Brownell,  Scribner’s  Magazine,  vol.  xxx.  p.  112. 


516  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


choose.  So  far  as  our  ideal  impulses  originate  in  this 
region  (and  most  of  them  do  originate  in  it,  for  we  find 
them  possessing  us  in  a way  for  which  we  cannot  articu- 
lately account),  we  belong  to  it  in  a more  intimate  sense 
than  that  in  which  we  belong  to  the  visible  world,  for 
we  belong  in  the  most  intimate  sense  wherever  our  ideals 
belong.  Yet  the  unseen  region  in  question  is  not  merely 
ideal,  for  it  produces  effects  in  this  world.  When  we 
commune  with  it,  work  is  actually  done  upon  our  finite 
personality,  for  we  are  turned  into  new  men,  and  conse- 
quences in  the  way  of  conduct  follow  in  the  natural 
world  upon  our  regenerative  change.^  But  that  which 
produces  effects  within  another  reality  must  be  termed 
a reality  itself,  so  I feel  as  if  we  had  no  philosophic 
excuse  for  calling  the  unseen  or  mystical  world  im- 
real. 

God  is  the  natural  appellation,  for  us  Christians  at 
least,  for  the  supreme  reality,  so  I will  call  this  higher 
part  of  the  universe  by  the  name  of  God.^  We  and  God 

1 That  the  transaction  of  opening  ourselves,  otherwise  called  prayer,  is  a 
perfectly  definite  one  for  certain  persons,  appears  abundantly  in  the  preced- 
ing lectures.  I append  another  concrete  example  to  reinforce  the  impres- 
sion on  the  reader’s  mind  : — 

“ Man  can  learn  to  transcend  these  limitations  [of  finite  thought]  and 
draw  power  and  wisdom  at  will.  . . . The  divine  presence  is  known  through 
experience.  The  turning  to  a higher  plane  is  a distinct  act  of  consciousness. 
It  is  not  a vague,  twilight  or  semi-conscious  experience.  It  is  not  an  ecstasy  ; 
it  is  not  a trance.  It  is  not  super-consciousness  in  the  Vedantic  sense.  It 
is  not  due  to  self-hypnotization.  It  is  a perfectly  calm,  sane,  sound, 
rational,  common-sense  shifting  of  consciousness  from  the  phenomena  of 
sense-perception  to  the  phenomena  of  seership,  from  the  thought  of  self  to 
a distinctively  higher  realm.  . . . For  example,  if  the  lower  self  be  nervous, 
anxious,  tense,  one  can  in  a few  moments  compel  it  to  be  calm.  This  is  not 
done  by  a word  simply.  Again  I say,  it  is  not  hypnotism.  It  is  by  the 
exercise  of  power.  One  feels  the  spirit  of  peace  as  definitely  as  heat  is 
perceived  on  a hot  summer  day.  The  power  can  be  as  surely  used  as  the 
sun’s  rays  can  be  focused  and  made  to  do  work,  to  set  fire  to  wood.” 
The  Higher  Law,  vol.  iv.  pp.  4,  6,  Boston,  August,  1901. 

2 Transcendentalists  are  fond  of  the  term  ‘ Over-soul,’  but  as  a rule  they 


CONCLUSIONS 


517 


have  business  with  each  other ; and  in  opening  ourselves 
to  his  influence  our  deepest  destiny  is  fulfilled.  The  uni- 
verse, at  those  parts  of  it  which  our  personal  being  con- 
stitutes, takes  a turn  genuinely  for  the  worse  or  for  the 
better  in  proportion  as  each  one  of  us  fulfills  or  evades 
God’s  demands.  As  far  as  this  goes  I probably  have  you 
with  me,  for  I only  translate  into  schematic  language 
what  I may  call  the  instinctive  belief  of  mankind : God 
is  real  since  he  produces  real  effects. 

The  real  effects  in  question,  so  far  as  I have  as  yet  ad- 
mitted them,  are  exerted  on  the  personal  centres  of  energy 
of  the  various  subjects,  but  the  spontaneous  faith  of  most 
of  the  subjects  is  that  they  embrace  a wider  sphere  than 
this.  Most  rehgious  men  believe  (or  ‘ know,’  if  they  be 
mystical)  that  not  only  they  themselves,  but  the  whole 
universe  of  beings  to  whom  the  God  is  present,  are  secure 
in  his  parental  hands.  There  is  a sense,  a dimension, 
they  are  sure,  in  which  we  are  all  saved,  in  spite  of  the 
gates  of  hell  and  all  adverse  terrestrial  appearances. 
God’s  existence  is  the  guarantee  of  an  ideal  order  that 
shall  be  permanently  preserved.  This  world  may  indeed, 
as  science  assures  us,  some  day  burn  up  or  freeze ; but 
if  it  is  part  of  his  order,  the  old  ideals  are  sure  to  be 
brought  elsewhere  to  fruition,  so  that  where  God  is, 
tragedy  is  only  provisional  and  partial,  and  shipwreck 
and  dissolution  are  not  the  absolutely  final  things.  Only 
when  this  farther  step  of  faith  concerning  God  is  taken, 
and  remote  objective  consequences  are  predicted,  does 
religion,  as  it  seems  to  me,  get  wholly  free  from  the  first 
immediate  subjective  experience,  and  bring  a real  hypo- 
thesis into  play.  A good  hypothesis  in  science  must  have 

use  it  in  an  intellectual! st  sense,  as  meaning  only  a medium  of  communion. 
‘ God  ’ is  a causal  agent  as  well  as  a medium  of  communion,  and  that  is  the 
aspect  which  I wish  to  emphasize. 


618  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

other  properties  than  those  of  the  phenomenon  it  is  im* 
mediately  invoked  to  explain,  otherwise  it  is  not  prolific 
enough.  God,  meaning  only  what  enters  into  the  reh- 
gious  man’s  experience  of  union,  falls  short  of  being  an 
hypothesis  of  this  more  useful  order.  He  needs  to  enter 
into  wider  cosmic  relations  in  order  to  justiEy  the  subject’s 
absolute  confidence  and  peace. 

That  the  God  with  whom,  starting  from  the  hither  side 
of  our  own  extra-marginal  self,  we  come  at  its  remoter 
margin  into  commerce  should  be  the  absolute  world-ruler, 
is  of  course  a very  considerable  over-belief.  Over-belief 
as  it  is,  though,  it  is  an  article  of  almost  every  one’s 
religion.  Most  of  us  pretend  in  some  way  to  prop  it  upon 
our  philosophy,  but  the  philosophy  itself  is  really  propped 
upon  this  faith.  What  is  this  but  to  say  that  Religion, 
in  her  fullest  exercise  of  function,  is  not  a mere  illumina- 
tion of  facts  already  elsewhere  given,  not  a mere  passion, 
like  love,  which  views  things  in  a rosier  light.  It  is  indeed 
that,  as  we  have  seen  abundantly.  But  it  is  something 
more,  namely,  a postulator  of  new  facts  as  well.  The 
world  interpreted  religiously  is  not  the  materialistic  world 
over  again,  with  an  altered  expression ; it  must  have,  over 
and  above  the  altered  expression,  a natural  constitution 
different  at  some  point  from  that  which  a materialistic 
world  would  have.  It  must  be  such  that  different  events 
can  be  expected  in  it,  different  conduct  must  be  required. 

This  thoroughly  ‘ pragmatic  ’ view  of  rehgion  has  usu- 
ally been  taken  as  a matter  of  course  by  common  men. 
They  have  interpolated  divine  miracles  into  the  field  of 
nature,  they  have  built  a heaven  out  beyond  the  grave. 
It  is  only  transcendentalist  metaphysicians  who  think 
that,  without  adding  any  concrete  details  to  Nature,  or 
subtracting  any,  but  by  simply  calling  it  the  expression  of 
absolute  spirit,  you  make  it  more  divine  just  as  it  stands. 


CONCLUSIONS 


619 


I believe  the  pragmatic  way  of  taking  religion  to  be  the 
deeper  way.  It  gives  it  body  as  well  as  soul,  it  makes  it 
claim,  as  everything  real  must  claim,  some  characteristic 
realm  of  fact  as  its  very  own.  What  the  more  character- 
istically divine  facts  are,  apart  from  the  actual  inflow  of 
energy  in  the  faith-state  and  the  prayer-state,  I know 
not.  But  the  over-belief  on  which  I am  ready  to  make 
my  personal  venture  is  that  they  exist.  The  whole  drift 
of  my  education  goes  to  persuade  me  that  the  world  of 
our  present  consciousness  is  only  one  out  of  many  worlds 
of  consciousness  that  exist,  and  that  those  other  worlds 
must  contain  experiences  which  have  a meaning  for  our 
life  also ; and  that  although  in  the  main  their  experi- 
ences and  those  of  this  world  keep  discrete,  yet  the  two 
become  continuous  at  certain  points,  and  higher  energies 
filter  in.  By  being  faithful  in  my  poor  measure  to  this 
over-belief,  I seem  to  myself  to  keep  more  sane  and  true. 
I can,  of  course,  put  myself  into  the  sectarian  scientist’s 
attitude,  and  imagine  vividly  that  the  world  of  sensations 
and  of  scientific  laws  and  objects  may  be  all.  But  when- 
ever I do  this,  I hear  that  inward  monitor  of  which  W. 
K.  Clifford  once  wrote,  whispering  the  word  ‘ bosh  ! ’ 
Humhug  is  humbug,  even  though  it  bear  the  scientific 
name,  and  the  total  expression  of  human  experience,  as  I 
view  it  objectively,  invincibly  urges  me  beyond  the  narrow 
^ scientific  ’ bounds.  Assuredly,  the  real  world  is  of  a dif- 
ferent temperament,  — more  intricately  built  than  phy- 
sical science  allows.  So  my  objective  and  my  subjective 
conscience  both  hold  me  to  the  over-behef  which  I ex- 
press. Who  knows  whether  the  faithfulness  of  individ- 
uals here  below  to  their  own  poor  over-beliefs  may  not 
actually  help  God  in  turn  to  be  more  effectively  faithful 
to  his  own  greater  tasks  ? 


POSTSCRIPT 


IN  writing  my  concluding  lecture  I had  to  aim  so  much 
at  simplification  that  I fear  that  my  general  philo- 
sophic position  received  so  scant  a statement  as  hardly  to 
be  intelligible  to  some  of  my  readers.  I therefore  add 
this  epilogue,  which  must  also  be  so  brief  as  possibly  to 
remedy  but  little  the  defect.  In  a later  work  I may  be 
enabled  to  state  my  position  more  amply  and  conse- 
quently more  clearly. 

Originality  cannot  be  expected  in  a field  like  this, 
where  aU  the  attitudes  and  tempers  that  are  possible 
have  been  exhibited  in  hterature  long  ago,  and  where 
any  new  writer  can  immediately  be  classed  under  a fa- 
miliar head.  If  one  should  make  a division  of  all 
thinkers  into  naturalists  and  supernaturahsts,  I shoidd 
undoubtedly  have  to  go,  along  with  most  philosophers, 
into  the  supernaturahst  branch.  But  there  is  a crasser 
and  a more  refined  supernaturalism,  and  it  is  to  the 
refined  division  that  most  philosophers  at  the  present  day 
belong.  If  not  regular  transcendental  idealists,  they  at 
least  obey  the  Kantian  direction  enough  to  bar  out  ideal 
entities  from  interfering  causally  in  the  course  of  phe- 
nomenal events.  Refined  supernaturalism  is  universalistic 
supernaturalism  ; for  the  ‘ crasser  ’ variety  ‘ piecemeal  ’ 
supernaturalism  would  perhaps  be  the  better  name.  It 
went  with  that  older  theology  which  to-day  is  supposed 
to  reign  only  among  uneducated  people,  or  to  be  found 
among  the  few  belated  professors  of  the  dualisms  which 
Kant  is  thought  to  have  displaced.  It  admits  miracles 


POSTSCRIPT 


521 


and  providential  leadings,  and  finds  no  intellectual  diffi- 
culty in  mixing  the  ideal  and  the  real  worlds  together 
by  interpolating  influences  from  the  ideal  region  among 
the  forces  that  causally  determine  the  real  world’s  details. 
In  this  the  refined  supernaturalists  think  that  it  muddles 
disparate  dimensions  of  existence.  For  them  the  world 
of  the  ideal  has  no  efficient  causality,  and  never  bursts 
into  the  world  of  phenomena  at  particular  points.  The 
ideal  world,  for  them,  is  not  a world  of  facts,  but  only  of 
the  meaning  of  facts ; it  is  a point  of  view  for  judging 
facts.  It  appertains  to  a different  ‘ -ology,’  and  inhabits 
a different  dimension  of  being  altogether  from  that  in 
which  existential  propositions  obtain.  It  cannot  get  down 
upon  the  flat  level  of  experience  and  interpolate  itself 
piecemeal  between  distinct  portions  of  nature,  as  those 
who  beheve,  for  example,  in  divine  aid  coming  in  response 
to  prayer,  are  bound  to  think  it  must. 

Notwithstanding  my  own  inability  to  accept  either 
popular  Christianity  or  scholastic  theism,  I suppose  that 
my  belief  that  in  communion  with  the  Ideal  new  force 
comes  into  the  world,  and  new  departures  are  made  here 
below,  subjects  me  to  being  classed  among  the  super- 
naturalists of  the  piecemeal  or  crasser  type.  Univer- 
salistic  supernaturalism  surrenders,  it  seems  to  me,  too 
easily  to  naturalism.  It  takes  the  facts  of  physical 
science  at  their  face-value,  and  leaves  the  laws  of  life 
just  as  naturalism  finds  them,  with  no  hope  of  remedy, 
in  case  their  fruits  are  bad.  It  confines  itself  to  sen- 
timents about  life  as  a whole,  sentiments  which  may  be 
admiring  and  adoring,  hut  which  need  not  be  so,  as 
the  existence  of  systematic  pessimism  proves.  In  this 
universalistic  way  of  taking  the  ideal  world,  the  essence 
of  practical  religion  seems  to  me  to  evaporate.  Both 
instinctively  and  for  logical  reasons,  I find  it  hard  to 


522  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


believe  that  principles  can  exist  which  make  no  difference 
in  facts.^  But  all  facts  are  particular  facts,  and  the  whole 
interest  of  the  question  of  God’s  existence  seems  to  me 
to  lie  in  the  consequences  for  particulars  which  that  exist- 
ence may  be  expected  to  entail.  That  no  concrete  par- 
ticular of  experience  should  alter  its  complexion  in  con- 
sequence of  a God  being  there  seems  to  me  an  incredible 
proposition,  and  yet  it  is  the  thesis  to  which  (implicitly 
at  any  rate)  refined  supernaturalism  seems  to  cling.  It 
is  only  with  experience  en  hloc,  it  says,  that  the  Absolute 
maintains  relations.  It  condescends  to  no  transactions  of 
detail. 

I am  ignorant  of  Buddhism  and  speak  under  correc- 
tion, and  merely  in  order  the  better  to  describe  my  gen- 
eral point  of  view ; but  as  I apprehend  the  Buddhistic 
doctrine  of  Karma,  I agree  in  principle  with  that.  AU 
supernaturalists  admit  that  facts  are  under  the  judgment 
of  higher  law  ; but  for  Buddhism  as  I interpret  it,  and 
for  religion  generally  so  far  as  it  remains  unweakened  by 
transcendentalistic  metaphysics,  the  word  ‘ judgment  ’ here 
means  no  such  bare  academic  verdict  or  platonic  appre- 
ciation as  it  means  in  Vedantic  or  modern  absolutist  sys- 
tems ; it  carries,  on  the  contrary,  execution  with  it,  is  in 

^ Transcendental  idealism,  of  course,  insists  that  its  ideal  world  makes 
this  difference,  that  facts  exist.  We  owe  it  to  the  Absolute  that  we  have  a 
world  of  fact  at  all.  ‘ A world  ’ of  fact  ! — that  exactly  is  the  trouble.  An 
entire  world  is  the  smallest  unit  with  which  the  Absolute  can  work,  whereas 
to  our  finite  minds  work  for  the  better  ought  to  be  done  within  this  world, 
setting  in  at  single  points.  Our  difficulties  and  our  ideals  are  all  piece- 
meal affairs,  but  the  Absolute  can  do  no  piecework  for  us  ; so  that  all  the 
interests  which  our  poor  souls  compass  raise  their  heads  too  late.  We 
should  have  spoken  earlier,  prayed  for  another  world  absolutely,  before  this 
world  was  born.  It  is  strange,  I have  heard  a friend  say,  to  see  this  blind 
corner  into  which  Christian  thought  has  worked  itself  at  last,  with  its  God 
who  can  raise  no  particular  weight  whatever,  who  can  help  us  with  no  pri- 
vate burden,  and  who  is  on  the  side  of  our  enemies  as  much  as  he  is  on  our 
own.  Odd  evolution  from  the  God  of  David’s  psalms  ! 


POSTSCRIPT 


523 


rebus  as  well  as  'post  rem,  and  operates  ‘ causally  ’ as 
partial  factor  in  the  total  fact.  The  universe  becomes  a 
gnosticism^  pure  and  simple  on  any  other  terms.  But 
this  view  that  judgment  and  execution  go  together  is 
that  of  the  crasser  supernaturahst  way  of  thinking,  so  the 
present  volume  must  on  the  whole  be  classed  with  the 
other  expressions  of  that  creed. 

I state  the  matter  thus  bluntly,  because  the  current  of 
thought  in  academic  circles  runs  against  me,  and  I feel 
like  a man  who  must  set  his  back  against  an  open  door 
quickly  if  he  does  not  wish  to  see  it  closed  and  locked.  In 
spite  of  its  being  so  shocking  to  the  reigning  intellectual 
tastes,  I believe  that  a candid  consideration  of  piecemeal 
supernaturalism  and  a complete  discussion  of  all  its  meta- 
physical bearings  will  show  it  to  be  the  hypothesis  by 
which  the  largest  number  of  legitimate  requirements  are 
met.  That  of  course  would  be  a program  for  other 
books  than  this ; what  I now  say  sufficiently  indicates  to 
the  philosophic  reader  the  place  where  I belong. 

If  asked  just  where  the  differences  in  fact  which  are 
due  to  God’s  existence  come  in,  I should  have  to  say  that 
in  general  I have  no  hypothesis  to  offer  beyond  what  the 
phenomenon  of  ‘‘  prayerful  communion,’  especially  when 
certain  kinds  of  incursion  from  the  subconscious  region 
take  part  in  it,  immediately  suggests.  The  appearance  is 
that  in  this  phenomenon  something  ideal,  which  in  one 
sense  is  part  of  ourselves  and  in  another  sense  is  not  our- 
selves, actually  exerts  an  influence,  raises  our  centre  of 
personal  energy,  and  produces  regenerative  effects  unat- 
tainable in  other  ways.  If,  then,  there  be  a wider  world 
of  being  than  that  of  our  every-day  consciousness,  if  in 
it  there  be  forces  whose  effects  on  us  are  intermittent,  if 

^ See  my  WiU  to  Believe  and  other  Essays  in  Popular  Philosophy,  1897, 

p.  166. 


624  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 

one  facilitating  condition  of  the  effects  he  the  openness 
of  the  ‘ subliminal  ’ door,  we  have  the  elements  of  a 
theory  to  which  the  phenomena  of  religious  life  lend 
plausibility.  I am  so  impressed  by  the  importance  of 
these  phenomena  that  I adopt  the  hypothesis  which  they 
so  naturally  suggest.  At  these  places  at  least,  I say,  it 
would  seem  as  though  transmundane  energies,  God,  if 
you  will,  produced  immediate  effects  within  the  natural 
world  to  which  the  rest  of  our  experience  belongs. 

The  difference  in  natural  ‘fact’  which  most  of  us 
would  assign  as  the  first  difference  which  the  existence  of 
a God  ought  to  make  would,  I imagine,  be  personal  im- 
mortahty.  Religion,  in  fact,  for  the  great  majority  of 
our  own  race  means  immortality,  and  nothing  else.  God 
is  the  producer  of  immortality ; and  whoever  has  doubts 
of  immortality  is  written  down  as  an  atheist  without 
farther  trial.  I have  said  nothing  in  my  lectures  about 
immortality  or  the  belief  therein,  for  to  me  it  seems  a 
secondary  point.  If  our  ideals  are  only  cared  for  in 
‘eternity,’  I do  not  see  why  we  might  not  be  willing  to 
resign  their  care  to  other  hands  than  ours.  Yet  I sym- 
pathize  with  the  urgent  impulse  to  be  present  ourselves, 
and  in  the  conflict  of  impulses,  both  of  them  so  vague 
yet  both  of  them  noble,  I know  not  how  to  decide.  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  eminently  a case  for  facts  to  testify. 
Facts,  I think,  are  yet  lacking  to  prove  ‘ spirit-return,’ 
though  I have  the  highest  respect  for  the  patient  labors 
of  Messrs.  Myers,  Hodgson,  and  Hyslop,  and  am  some- 
what impressed  by  their  favorable  conclusions.  I conse- 
quently leave  the  matter  open,  with  this  brief  word  to 
save  the  reader  from  a possible  perplexity  as  to  why  im- 
mortality got  no  mention  in  the  body  of  this  book. 

The  ideal  power  with  which  we  feel  ourselves  in  con- 
nection,  the  ‘ God  ’ of  ordinary  men,  is,  both  by  ordinary 


POSTSCRIPT 


525 

men  and  by  philosophers,  endowed  with  certain  of  those 
metaphysical  attributes  which  in  the  lecture  on  philoso- 
phy I treated  with  such  disrespect.  He  is  assumed  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  be  ‘ one  and  only  ’ and  to  be  ‘ infi- 
nite ’ ; and  the  notion  of  many  finite  gods  is  one  which 
hardly  any  one  thinks  it  worth  while  to  consider,  and 
stiU  less  to  uphold.  Nevertheless,  in  the  interests  of 
intellectual  clearness,  I feel  bound  to  say  that  religious 
experience,  as  we  have  studied  it,  cannot  be  cited  as  un- 
equivocally supporting  the  infinitist  belief.  The  only 
thing  that  it  unequivocally  testifies  to  is  that  we  can 
experience  union  with  something  larger  than  ourselves 
and  in  that  union  find  our  greatest  peace.  Philosophy, 
with  its  passion  for  unity,  and  mysticism  with  its  mono- 
ideistic  bent,  both  ‘ pass  to  the  limit  ’ and  identify  the 
something  with  a unique  God  who  is  the  all-inclusive 
isoul  of  the  world.  Popular  opinion,  respectful  to  their 
authority,  follows  the  example  which  they  set. 

Meanwhile  the  practical  needs  and  experiences  of  reli- 
gion seem  to  me  sufficiently  met  by  the  belief  that  be- 
yond each  man  and  in  a fashion  continuous  with  him 
there  exists  a larger  power  which  is  friendly  to  him  and  to 
his  ideals.  All  that  the  facts  require  is  that  the  power 
should  be  both  other  and  larger  than  our  conscious 
selves.  Anything  larger  will  do,  if  only  it  be  large 
enough  to  trust  for  the  next  step.  It  need  not  be  infi- 
nite, it  need  not  be  solitary.  It  might  conceivably  even 
be  only  a larger  and  more  godlike  self,  of  which  the  pre- 
sent self  would  then  be  but  the  mutilated  expression,  and 
the  universe  might  conceivably  be  a collection  of  such 
selves,  of  different  degrees  of  inclusiveness,  with  no  ab- 
solute unity  realized  in  it  at  aU.^  Thus  would  a sort  of 

1 Such  a notion  is  suggested  in  my  Ingersoll  Lecture  On  Human  Immor- 
tality, Boston  and  London,  1899. 


526  THE  VARIETIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE 


polytheism  return  upon  us — a polytheism  which  I do  not 
on  this  occasion  defend,  for  my  only  aim  at  present  is  to 
keep  the  testimony  of  religious  experience  clearly  within 
its  proper  bounds.  [Compare  p.  132  above.] 

Upholders  of  the  monistic  view  will  say  to  such  a poly- 
theism (which,  by  the  way,  has  always  been  the  real  reli- 
gion of  common  people,  and  is  so  still  to-day)  that  unless 
there  be  one  all-inclusive  God,  our  guarantee  of  security  is 
left  imperfect.  In  the  Absolute,  and  in  the  Absolute 
only,  all  is  saved.  If  there  be  different  gods,  each  car- 
ing for  his  part,  some  portion  of  some  of  us  might  not 
be  covered  with  divine  protection,  and  our  rehgious  con- 
solation would  thus  fail  to  be  complete.  It  goes  back  to 
what  was  said  on  pages  131-133,  about  the  possibility 
of  there  being  portions  of  the  universe  that  may  irre- 
trievably be  lost.  Common  sense  is  less  sweeping  in  its 
demands  than  philosophy  or  mysticism  have  been  wont  to 
be,  and  can  suffer  the  notion  of  this  world  being  partly 
saved  and  partly  lost.  The  ordinary  moralistic  state  of 
mind  makes  the  salvation  of  the  world  conditional  upon 
the  success  with  which  each  unit  does  its  part.  Partial 
and  conditional  salvation  is  in  fact  a most  familiar  notion 
when  taken  in  the  abstract,  the  only  difficulty  being  to 
determine  the  details.  Some  men  are  even  disinterested 
enough  to  be  willing  to  be  in  the  unsaved  remnant  as  far 
as  their  persons  go,  if  only  they  can  be  persuaded  that 
their  cause  will  prevail  — aU  of  us  are  willing,  whenever 
our  activity-excitement  rises  sufficiently  high.  I think,  in 
fact,  that  a final  philosophy  of  religion  will  have  to  con- 
sider the  pluralistic  hypothesis  more  seriously  than  it  has 
hitherto  been  willing  to  consider  it.  For  practical  life  at 
any  rate,  the  chance  of  salvation  is  enough.  No  fact  in 
human  nature  is  more  characteristic  than  its  willingness 
to  live  on  a chance.  The  existence  of  the  chance  makes 


POSTSCRIPT 


527 


the  difference,  as  Edmund  Gurney  says,  between  a life  of 
which  the  keynote  is  resignation  and  a life  of  which  the 
keynote  is  hope.^  But  all  these  statements  are  unsatis- 
factory from  their  brevity,  and  I can  only  say  that  I hope 
to  return  to  the  same  questions  in  another  book. 

* Tertium  Qaid,  1887,  p.  9y.  See  also  pp.  148,  149. 


INDEX 


Absolute,  oneness  with  the,  419. 
Abstractness  of  religious  objects,  53. 

AcHUiiiES,  86. 

Ackebmann,  Madajmb,  63. 

Adaptation  to  environment,  of  things, 
438  i of  saints,  374-377. 

^Esthetic  elements  in  religions,  460. 
Alacoque,  310,  344,  413. 

Alcohol,  387. 

Al-Ghazzali,  402. 

Au,  341. 

Alleinb,  228. 

Alline,  159,  217. 

Alternations  of  personality,  193. 
Aivabez  de  Paz,  116. 

Aahel,  394. 

Anaesthesia,  288. 

Anaesthetic  revelation,  387-393. 
Angelus  Silesius,  417. 

Anger,  181,  264. 

‘ Anhedonia,’  145. 

Aristocratic  type,  371. 

Abistotle,  495. 

Ars,  le  Cur4  d’,  302. 

Asceticism,  273,  296-310,  360-365. 
Aseity,  God’s,  439,  445. 

Atman,  400. 

Attributes  of  God,  440 ; their  aesthetic 
use,  458. 

Augustine,  Saint,  171,  361,  496. 
Aubelius,  see  Marcus. 

Automatic  writing,  62,  478. 
Automatisms,  234,  250,  478-483. 

Baldwin,  347,  503. 

Bashkietsefp,  83. 

Beecheb,  256. 

Behmen,  see  Boehmb. 

Belief,  due  to  non-rationalistic  impulses, 
73. 

Besant,  Mbs.,  23,  168. 

Bhagavad-Gita,  361. 

Blavatsky,  Madam,  421. 

Blood,  389. 

Blumhabdt,  113. 

Boehme,  410,  417,  418. 

Booth,  203. 

Bougaud,  344. 

Boubgbt,  263. 

Boubignon,  321. 


Bowne,  502. 

Bbainbed,  212,  25S. 

Bbay,  249,  256,  290. 

Bbooks,  512. 

Bbownbll,  515. 

Bucks,  398. 

Buddhism,  31,  34, 522. 

Buddhist  mysticism,  401. 

Bullen,  287. 

Bunyan,  157,  160. 

Buttbbwobth,  411. 

Caibd,  Edwabd,  106. 

Caihd,  J.,  on  feeling  in  religion,  434 ; 
on  absolute  self,  450 ; he  does  not 
prove,  but  reafhrms,  religion’s  dicta, 
453. 

Call,  289. 

Cablyle,  41,  300. 

Cakpentbb,  319. 

Catharine,  Saint,  of  Genoa,  289. 
Catholicism  and  Protestantism  com- 
pared, 114,  227,  336,  461. 

Causality  of  God,  517,  522. 

Cause,  502. 

Cennick,  301. 

Centres  of  personal  energy,  196,  267, 
523. 

Cerebration,  unconscious,  207. 

Chance,  526. 

Channing,  300,  488. 

Chapman,  324. 

Character,  cause  of  its  alterations,  193 ; 
scheme  of  its  differences  of  typeu 
197,  214. 

Causes  of  its  diversity,  261 ; balance 
of,  340. 

Charity,  274,  278,  310,  365. 

Chastity,  310. 

Chiefs  of  tribes,  371. 

Christian  Science,  106. 

Christ’s  atonement,  129,  245. 

Churches,  335,  460. 

Clabk,  389. 

Clissold,  481. 

Coe,  240. 

Conduct,  perfect,  355. 

Confession,  462. 

Consciousness,  fields  of,  231  ; sublimi 
nal,  233. 


630 


INDEX 


Consistency,  296. 

Conversion,  to  avarice,  178. 

Conversion,  Fletcher’s,  181 ; Tolstoy’s, 
184;  Bunyau’s,  186  ; in  general, 
Lectures  IX  and  X,  passim  ; Brad- 
ley’s, 189 ; compared  with  natural 
moral  growth,  199 ; Hadley’s,  201 ; 
two  types  of,  205  f£. ; Brainerd’s,  212  ; 
Alline’s,  217  ; Oxford  graduate’s,  221 ; 
Ratisbonne’s,  223 ; instantaneous, 
227 ; is  it  a natural  phenomenon  ? 230  ; 
subliminal  action  involved,  in  sudden 
cases,  236,  240 ; fruits  of,  237 ; its 
momentousness,  239 ; may  be  super- 
natural, 242  ; its  concomitants  : sense 
of  higher  control,  244,  happiness, 
248,  automatisms,  250,  luminous 
phenomena,  251 ; its  degree  of  per- 
manence, 256. 

Cosmic  consciousness,  398. 

Counter-conversion,  176. 

Courage,  265,  287. 

Crankiness,  see  Psychopathy. 

Crichton-Beowke,  384,  386. 

Criminal  character,  263. 

Criteria  of  value  of  spiritual  affections, 
18. 

Crump,  239. 

Cure  of  bad  habits,  270. 

Daudet,  167. 

Death,  139,  364. 

Derham,  493. 

Design,  argument  from,  438,  492  ff. 

Devoutness,  340. 

Dionysius  Arbopagiticus,  416. 

Disease,  99,  113. 

Disorder  in  contents  of  world,  438. 

Divided  Self,  Lecture  VIII,  passim ; 
Cases  of : Saint  Augustine,  172,  H. 
Alline,  173. 

Divine,  the,  31. 

Dog,  281. 

Dogmatism,  326,  333. 

Dowie,  113. 

Dresser,  H.  W.,  96,  99, 289,  516. 

Drink,  268. 

Drummer,  476. 

Drummond,  262. 

Drunkenness,  387,  403,488. 

‘ Dryness,’  204. 

Dumas,  279. 

Dyes,  on  clothing,  294. 

Earnestness,  264. 

Ecclesiastical  spirit,  the,  335,  338. 

Eckhart,  417. 

Eddy,  106. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  20;  114,  200, 
229,  238,  239,  248,  330. 


Edwards,  Mrs.  J.,  276,  280. 

Effects  of  religious  states,  21. 
Effeminacy,  365. 

Ego  of  Apperception,  449. 

Ellis,  Havelock,  418. 

Elwood,  292. 

Emerson,  32,  56,  167,  205,  239,  330. 

• -Emotion,  as  alterer  of  life’s  value,  150; 
of  the  character,  195,  261  ff.,  279. 
Empirical  method,  18,  327  ff.,  443. 
■•dSnemies,  love  your,  278,  283. 

Energy,  personal,  196 ; mystical  states 
increase  it,  414. 

Environment,  356,  374. 

Epictetus,  474. 

Epicureans,  143. 

Equanimity,  284. 

Ether,  mystical  effects  of,  392. 

Evil,  ignored  by  healthy-mindedness, 
88,  106,  131 ; due  to  things  or  to  the 
Self,  134 ; its  reality,  163. 
Evolutionist  optimism,  91. 

Excesses  of  piety,  340. 

Excitement,  its  effects,  195,  266,  279, 
325. 

Experience,  religious,  the  essence  of, 
508. 

Extravagances  of  piety,  339,  486. 
Extreme  cases,  why  we  take  them, 
486. 

Failure,  139. 

Faith,  246,  506. 

Faith-state,  505. 

Fanaticism,  338  ff. 

Fear,  98,  159,  161, 263,  275. 

Feeling  deeper  than  intellect  in  religion, 
431. 

Fielding,  436. 

Finney,  207,  215. 

Fletcher,  98,  181. 

Flournoy,  67,  514. 

Flower,  476. 

FositER,  178,  383. 

Fox,  George,  7,  291,  335,  411. 

Francis,  Saint,  d’Assisi,  319. 
Francis,  Saint,  de  Sales,  11. 

Fraser,  454. 

Fruits,  of  conversion,  237 ; of  religion, 
327 ; of  Saintliness,  357. 

Fuller,  41. 

Gamond,  288. 

Gardiner,  269. 

Genius  and  insanity,  16. 

Geniuses,  see  Religious  leaders. 
Gentleman,  character  of  the,  317, 371» 
Gertrude,  Saint,  345. 

‘ Gifts,’  151. 

Glory  of  God,  342. 


INDEX 


631 


God,  31 ; sense  of  his  presence,  66-72, 
272,  275  fB. ; historic  changes  in  idea 
of  him,  74,  328  ff.,  493 ; mind-curer’s 
idea  of  him,  101 ; his  honor,  342 ; 
described  by  negatives,  417  ; his  at- 
tributes, scholastic  proof  of,  439  ; the 
metaphysical  ones  are  for  us  mean- 
ingless, 445 ; the  moral  ones  are  ill- 
deduced,  447  ; he  is  not  a mere  infer- 
ence, 502  ; is  used,  not  known,  506 ; 
his  existence  must  make  a difference 
among  phenomena,  517,  522 ; his  re- 
lation to  the  subconscious  region,  242, 
515 ; his  tasks,  519 ; may  be  finite 
and  plural,  525. 

Goddaed,  96. 

Gobrres,  407. 

Goethe,  137. 

Gough,  203. 

Gouedon,  171. 

‘ Grace,  ’ the  operation  of,  226  ; the  state 
of,  260. 

Geatet,  146,  476,  506. 

Greeks,  their  pessimism,  86,  142. 

Guidance,  472. 

Gurkey,  527. 

Guton,  276,  286. 

Hadley,  201,  268. 

Hale,  82. 

Hamon,  367. 

Happiness,  47-49,  79,  248,  279. 

Haenack,  100. 

Healthy-mindedness,  Lectures  IV  and 
V,  passim ; its  philosophy  of  evil, 
131 ; compared  with  morbid-minded- 
ness,  162,  488. 

Heart,  softening  of,  267. 

Hegel,  389,  449,  454. 

Helmont,  Van,  497. 

Heroism,  364,  488,  note. 

Heterogeneous  personality,  169,  193. 

Higher  criticism,  4. 

Hh,ty,  79,  275,  472. 

Hodgson,  R.,  524. 

Homer,  86. 

Hugo,  171. 

Hypocrisy,  338. 

Hypothesis,  what  make  a useful  one, 
517. 

Hyslop,  524. 

Ignatius  Loyola,  313,  406,  410. 

Illness,  113. 

‘ Imitation  of  Christ,’  the,  44. 

Immortality,  524. 

Impulses,  261, 

Individuality,  5_01. 

Inhibitions,  261  ff. 

Insane  melancholy  and  religion,  144. 


Insanity  and  genius,  16 ; and  happi- 
ness, 279. 

Institutional  religion,  335. 

Intellect  a secondary  force  in  religion, 
431,  514. 

Intellectual  weakness  of  some  saints, 
370. 

Intolerance,  342. 

Irascibility,  264. 

Jesus,  Haenack  on,  100. 

Job,  76,  448. 

John,  Saint,  of  the  Cross,  304,  407, 
413. 

Johnston,  258. 

Jonquil,  476. 

Jordan,  347. 

JOUFFROY,  176,  198. 

Judgments,  existential  and  spiritual,  4. 

Kant,  54,  448. 

Karma,  522. 

Kellner,  401. 

Kindliness,  see  Charity. 

Kingsley,  385. 

Lagneau,  285. 

Leaders,  see  Religious  leaders. 

Leaders,  of  tribes,  371. 

Lejeune,  113,  312. 

Lessing,  318. 

Leuba,  201,  203,  220,  246,  506. 

Life,  its  significance,  15L- 
Life,  the  subconscious,  207,  209. 
Locker-Lampson,  39. 

Logic,  Hegelian,  449. 

Louis,  Saint,  of  Gonzaga,  350. 

Love,  see  Charity. 

Love,  cases  of  falling  out  of,  179. 

Love  of  God,  276. 

Love  your  enemies,  278,  283. 

Lowell,  651 
Loyalty,  to  God,  342. 

Lutfullah,  164. 

Luther,  128,  137,  244,  330,  348,  382. 
Lutheran  self-despair,  108,  211. 

Luxury,  365. 

Lycaon,  86. 

Lyre,  267. 

Mahomet,  171.  See  Mohammed. 
Marcus  Aurelius,  42,  44,  474. 
Margaret  Mary,  see  Alacoqub. 
Margin  of  consciousness,  232. 
Marshall,  503. 

Martineau,  475. 

Mather,  303. 

Maud.sley,  19. 

Mearfing  of  life,  151. 

Medical  criticism  of  religion,  413. 


632 


INDEX 


Medical  materialism,  10  £f. 

Melancholy,  145,  279  ; Lectures  V and 
VI,  passim ; cases  of,  148,  149,  157, 
159,  198. 

Melting  moods,  267. 

Method  of  judging  value  of  religion,  18, 
327. 

Methodism,  227,  237. 

Meysenbug,  395. 

_ Militarism,  365-367., 

Military  type  of  characte^37 1. 

Mili:,'204; 

Mind-cure,  its  sources  and  history,  94- 
97  ; its  opinion  of  fear,  98  ; cases  of, 
102-105,  120,123;  its  message,  108; 
its  methods,  112-123  ; it  uses  verifica- 
tion, 120-124 ; its  philosophy  of  evU, 
131. 

Miraculous  character  of  conversion,  227. 

Mohammed,  341,  481. 

Molinos,  130. 

Moltke,  Von,  264,  367. 

Monasteries,  296. 

Monism,  416. 

Morbidness  compared  ■with  healthy- 
mindedness,  488.  See,  also.  Melan- 
choly. 

Mormon  revelations,  482. 

Mortification,  see  Asceticism. 

Muir,  482. 

Mulfobd,  497. 

Muller,  468. 

Murislbr,  349. 

Myers,  233,  234,  466,  511,  524. 

Mystic  states,  their  effects,  21,  414. 

Mystical  experiences,  66. 

Mysticism,  Lectures  XVI  and  XVII, 
passim  ; its  marks,  380  ; its  theoretic 
results,  416,  422, 428 ; it  cannot  war- 
rant truth,  422  ; its  results,  425 ; its 
relation  to  the  sense  of  union,  509. 

Mystical  region  of  experience,  515. 

Natural  theology,  492. 

Naturalism,  141,  167. 

Nature,  scientific  -view  of,  491. 

Negative  accounts  of  deity,  417. 

Nelson,  208, 423. 

Nettleton,  215. 

Newman,  F.  W.,  80. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  on  dogmatic  theology, 
434,  442 ; his  type  of  imagination, 
459. 

Nietzsche,  371,  372. 

Nitrous  oxide,  its  mystical  effects,  387. 

No-function,  261-263,  299,  387,  416. 

Non-resistance,  281,  358,  376. 

Obedience,  310. 

Obermann,  476. 


O’Connell,  257. 

Omit,  296. 

‘ Once-born  ’ type,  80,  166,  363,  488. 

Oneness  with  God,  see  Union. 

Optimism,  systematic,  88 ; and  evolu. 
tionism,  9l  ; it  may  be  shallow, 
364. 

Orderliness  of  world,  438. 

Organism  determines  all  mental  states 
whatsoever,  14. 

Origin  of  mental  states  no  criterion  of 
their  value,  14  ff. 

Orison,  406. 

Over-beliefs,  513  ; the  author’s,  515. 

Over-soul,  516.  i 

Oxford,  graduate  of,  220,  268. 

Pagan  feeling,  86. 

Pantheism,  131,  416. 

Parker,  83. 

Pascal,  286. 

Paton,  359. 

Paul,  Saint,  171,  357. 

Peek,  253. 

Peirce,  444. 

Penny,  323. 

Perreyve,  505. 

Persecutions,  338,  342. 

Personality,  explained  away  by  science, 
119,  491  ; heterogeneous,  169  ; alter- 
ations of,  193,  210  ff. ; is  reality,  499. 
See  Character. 

Peter,  Saint,  oe  Alcantara,  360. 

Philo,  481. 

Philosophy,  Lecture  XVIII,  passim ; 
must  coerce  assent,  433 ; scholastic, 
439  ; idealistic,  418  ; unable  to  give 
a theoretic  warrant  to  faith,  455  ; its : 
true  office  in  religion,  455. 

Photisms,  251. 

Piety,  339  ff. 

Pluralism,  131. 

Polytheism,  131,  526. 

Poverty,  315,  367. 

‘ Pragmatism,’  444,  519,  522-524. 

Prayer,  463  ; its  definition,  464  ; its  es- 
sence, 465  ; petitional,  467  ; its  ef- 
fects, 474-477,  523. 

‘ Presence,’  sense  of,  58-63. 

Presence  of  God,  66-72,  272,  275  ff., 
396,  418. 

Presence  of  God,  the  practice  of,  116. 

Primitive  human  thought,  495. 

Pkinglb-Pattison,  454. 

Prophets,  the  Hebrew,  479. 

Protestant  theology,  244. 

Protestantism  and  Catholicism,  114,  227( 
330, 461. 

Providential  leading,  472. 

Psychopathy  and  religion,  22  ff. 


INDEX 


533 


EVffek,  894. 

Purity,  274,  290,  348. 

j Quakers,  7,  291. 

* Ramakbishna,  361,  365. 

Rationalism,  73,  74;  its  authority  over- 
thrown by  mysticism,  428. 

**  Ratisbonnb,  223,  257. 

. Reality  of  unseen  objects.  Lecture  III, 

‘ passim. 

Rkcbjac,  407,  609. 

‘ Recollection,’  116,  289. 

Redemption,  157. 

Reformation  of  character,  320. 

Regeneration,  see  Conversion ; by  re- 
laxation, 111. 

Rbid,  446. 

Relaxation,  salvation  by,  110.  See  Sur- 
render. 

ReUgion,  to  be  tested  by  fruits,  not 
by  origin,  10  ff.,  331 ; its  debnition, 
26,  31 ; is  solemn,  37 ; compared 
wit^Stmcism,  41  ; its  unique  func- 
(tion,  51  jVbstractness  of  its  objects, 
54 ; differs  according  to  tempera- 
ment, 75, 135,  333,  and  ought  to  differ, 
487 ; considered  to  be  a ‘ survival,’ 
118,  490,  498 ; its  relations  to  melan- 

I choly,  145  ; worldly  passions  ■.may 
combine  with  it,^  337)  its  essential 
characters,  369,  4§5  ; its  relation  to 
prayer,  463-466  ; asserts  a fact,  not  a 
theory,  489 ; its  truth,  .377 ; more 
than  science,  it  holds  by  concrete 
reality,  500 ; attempts  to  evaporate 
it  into  philosophy,  502 ; it  is  con- 
cerned with  personal  destinies,  4_9L 
603  ;_jwitlL_feeling  and  conduct.  504  3 
is  a sthenic  affection7^05  ;"Ts^or  life, 
not  for  knowledge,  506  ; its  essential 
contents,  508 ; it  postulates  issues  of 
fact,  518. 

Religious  emotion,  279. 

Religious  leaders,  often  nervously  un- 
stable, 6 ff.,  30  ; their  loneliness,  335. 

‘ Religious  sentiment,’  27. 

Renan,  37. 

Renunciations,  349. 

Repentance,  127. 

Resignation,  286. 

Revelation,  the  anassthetio,  387-393. 

Revelations,  see  Automatisms. 

Revelations,  in  Mormon  Church,  482. 

Revivalism,  228. 

Ribbt,  407. 

Ribot,  146,  502. 

Rodbiguez,  313,  314,  317. 

Royce,  454. 

Rutheeford,  Mare,  76. 


Sabatier,  A.,  464. 

Sacrifice,  3o3,  462. 

Saint-Pierre,  83. 

Sainte-Bbcve,  260, 315. 

Saintliness,  Sainte-Beuve  on,  260 ; its 
characteristics,  272,  370 ; criticism  of, 
326  ff. 

Saintly  conduct,  356-377. 

Saints,  dislike  of  natural  man  for,  371. 
Salvation,  526. 

Sandays,  480. 

Satan,  in  picture,  50. 

ScHEFFLER,  417. 

Scholastic  arguments  for  God,  437. 
Science,  ignores  personality  and  tele. 

ology,  491  ; her_‘ facts,’  500,  601. 
‘Science  of  Religions,’  433,  4557  456, 
488-490. 

Scientific  conceptions,  their  late  adop- 
tion, 496. 

Second-birth,  157,  165,  166. 

Seeley,  77. 

Self  of  the  world,  449. 

Self-despair,  110,  129,  208. 
Self-surrender,  110,  208. 

Senancodr,  476. 

Seth,  454. 

Sexual  temptation,  269. 

Sexuality  as  cause  of  religion,  10,  11. 

‘ Shrew,’  347. 

Sickness,  113. 

Sick  souls.  Lectures  V and  VI,  passim. 
SiGHELE,  263. 

Sin,  209. 

Sinners,  Christ  died  for,  129. 

Skepticism,  332  ff. 

Skobeleff,  265. 

Smith,  Joseph,  482. 

Softening  of  the  heart,  267. 

Solemnity,  37,  48. 

Soul,  195. 

Soul,  strength  of,  273. 

Spencer,  355,  374. 

Spinoza,  9,  127. 

Spiritism,  514. 

Spirit-return,  524. 

Spiritual  judgments,  4. 

Spiritual  states,  tests  of  their  value,  18. 
Staebuck,  198,  199,  204,  206,  208-210, 
249,  253,  258,  268,  276,  323,  353,  394 
Stevenson,  138,  296. 

Stoicism,  42-45,  143. 

Strange  appearance  of  world,  151. 
Strength  of  soul,  273. 

Subconscious  action  in  conversion,  236, 
242. 

Subconscious  life,  115,  207,  209,  233, 
236, 270,  483. 

Subconscious  Self,  as  intermediary  be- 
tween the  Self  and  God,  511. 


634 


INDEX 


Subliminal,  see  Subconscious. 

Sufis,  402, 420. 

Suggfestion,  112,  234. 

Suicide,  147. 

Supernaturalism  its  two  kinds,  520 ; 

criticism  of  universalistic,  521. 
Supernatural  world,  518. 

Surrender,  salvation  by,  110,  208,  211. 
Survival-theory  of  religion,  490,  498, 
500. 

Suso,  306,  349. 

Swinburne,  421. 

Symonds,  385,  390. 

Sympathetic  magic,  496. 

Sympathy,  see  Charity. 

Systems,  philosophic,  433. 

Taine,  9. 

Taylor,  246. 

Tenderness,  see  Charity. 

Tennyson,  383,  384. 

Teresa,  Saint,  20,  346,  360,  408,  411, 
412,  414. 

Theologia  Germanica,  43. 

Theologians,  systematic,  446. 
‘Theopathy,’  343. 

Thoreau,  275. 

Threshold,  135. 

Tiger,  164,  262. 

Tobacco,  270,  290. 

Tolstoy,  149,  178, 184 
Towianski,  281. 

Tragedy  of  life,  363. 

Tranquillity,  285. 

Transcendentalism  criticised,  522, 
Transcendentalists,  516. 

Trevor,  396. 

Trine,  101,  394. 

Truth  of  religion,  how  to  he  tested,  377 ; 
what  it  is,  509 ; mystical  perception 
of,  380,  410, 


‘ Twice-born,’  type,  166,  363,  488. 
Tyndall,  299. 

‘ Unconscious  cerebration,’  207. 
Unification  of  Self,  183,  349. 

‘ Union  morale,’  272. 

Union  with  God,  408,  418,  425,  451, 
509  ff.  See  lectures  on  Conversion, 
passim. 

Unity  of  universe,  131. 

Unreality,  sense  of,  63. 

Unseen  realities.  Lecture  III,  passim. 
Upanishads,  419. 

Upham,  289. 

Utopias,  360. 

Vacherot,  502. 

Value  of  spiritual  affections,  how  tested, 
18. 

Vambery,  341. 

Vedantism,  400,  419,  513,  522. 

Veracity,  7,  291  £F. 

ViVBKANANDA,  513. 

Voltaire,  38. 

VOYSEY,  275. 


-Wealth-worship,  365, 

Weaver,  281. 

Wesley,  227. 

Wesleyan  self -despair,  108,  21L 
Whitefibld,  318. 

Whitman,  84,  395,  396,  506. 
Wolff,  492,  493. 

Wood,  Henry,  96,  99,  117. 
World,  soul  of  the,  449. 

Worry,  98,  181. 

Yes-function,  261-263,  299,  387» 
Yoga,  400. 

Young,  256. 


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